PANK SOON
And there are days when I can’t even speak. You see my throat is a second heart. You see my throat is full of cotton balls. My bloody cotton balls on the bathroom floor. My dim heart as a mess of paint. My heart is alive and you say I’M SO TIRED ALL THE TIME. You say I’M SO SORRY THAT MY EYES ARE MADE MOSTLY OF SLEEP. And when all the red veins are tiny lines I follow into bed you whisper I CAN’T GO FOR TOO MUCH LONGER and even when I want you to wait for me you can’t. You say I’LL MEET YOU AT HOME LATER or I’M EATING AT MY MOTHER’S TONIGHT so I’m alone again, dreaming of mosaic brickwork, of the storefront we’ll never finish.
