You’ve felt this weight before. The weight of one thousand grocery bags carried up your fourth floor walk-up apartment. The weight of a backpack full of school books you avoid reading at all costs. The smell of the pages could put you back to sleep. To dream of those hallways. Lined with faces you never knew and never wanted to know. Right back to those parking lots you sat in because you were stuck in a town that was stuck in you. You could wake up but you still feel weighed down with that morbid feeling. Walking up that flight of stairs with all those shopping bags and one rips, and it spills everything out onto the stairs. Just like that hole in you. It was once ripped out and spilled everything. Your life scattered across the floor like your bedroom floors are scattered with clothes and books and more make up than you really need.

I’ve seen you braid you hair in bed, you could be beautiful at any point in time. Scared to kiss in the morning before brushing our teeth, but is our breath what we fear the most?

We shouldn’t answer this.