stupidgirl!

two blue ticks and you’re onto the next one –

and i can’t believe how i stumbled, how i smiled on the tube

when the signal swooped in and your poem dropped down.

how i really, really thought i’d won- that you’d be waiting

on the platform with my flowers, and it would be done.

how many more? how many before me?

how many torn-up diary entries,

how many scrawled stains on parchment,

how many twisted, looping theories in hieroglyphics disintegrating down the nile, scrambling to compile any other theory than:

i was just being so silly. that i liked you a lot more than you liked me.

fucksake. tell friends it fizzled out.

pull tarot. maybe shave my head-

hair stores memories, apparently?