.
i cut my hair.
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words collapse on your lips, mid-kiss; i am intoxicated with the fall, and you realize that you can not be a poem. your eyes are too dark and there's too much bad faith. the world breaks. we were going to go to the sea yesterday, but days can unravel, just like you can unlove and unsex, uncare and undo everything &me. you want to do to me what the sun does to the fruits during autumntime, but i'm so enraptured by winter, taken under and fallen through; i love the cold more than i love you. what happens now. but hey, i think i was taught this way. i said, so long ago, "please be steady, please be kind," but maybe i spoke too softly. or they chose not to hear. or i only said it to myself, really, in my head. i find it so difficult to sort out my thoughts, as if they're irreversibly embedded into all the wrong places and i can't stand how alone it makes me feel. so i rush towards people, all the wrong people. there's a song in my head but they can't hear it; maybe that's the problem. but most tell me that the song being there in the first place is what's wrong. i can't believe that, that's like letting a part of me die, isn't it.
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i cut my hair.
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words collapse on your lips, mid-kiss; i am intoxicated with the fall, and you realize that you can not be a poem. your eyes are too dark and there's too much bad faith. the world breaks. we were going to go to the sea yesterday, but days can unravel, just like you can unlove and unsex, uncare and undo everything &me. you want to do to me what the sun does to the fruits during autumntime, but i'm so enraptured by winter, taken under and fallen through; i love the cold more than i love you. what happens now. but hey, i think i was taught this way. i said, so long ago, "please be steady, please be kind," but maybe i spoke too softly. or they chose not to hear. or i only said it to myself, really, in my head. i find it so difficult to sort out my thoughts, as if they're irreversibly embedded into all the wrong places and i can't stand how alone it makes me feel. so i rush towards people, all the wrong people. there's a song in my head but they can't hear it; maybe that's the problem. but most tell me that the song being there in the first place is what's wrong. i can't believe that, that's like letting a part of me die, isn't it.
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