scribble scrabble

i fell in love once.

i wonder how many skeletons she has hid in
her closet and does she ever miss them. there
are emotions people have left with her she
doesnt try to shake off, she hoards them
gleefully. we were too impatient to wait, like diluted
coffee in the morning, stressfully unsatisfying and
bodies craving for more with bitter aftertaste. she
searches the trash bins for memories, a vague
glimpse of excitement, a certain harmony between
her fingers. she has convinced herself constant pain
is beauty, blurry eyed remembering how much my
fingerprints stung as i entered her last. i wonder if
she misses me. i guess theres something poetic in
not knowing.