What parts of me do you like today

Today, where everything you say makes me laugh and my clothes show I tried but didn’t try too hard to look good for you Today, when we say goodbye and I pull you into me, wanting you, unafraid of feeling, so that you do not have to feel at all. And you do not have to be afraid

of losing power to feeling.

Which parts will you like of me tomorrow

When I am boring because you do not make me laugh

When I do not look good for you or anyone

When I am tired of pulling

When I am only ever unhappy

And when some days, no matter what you say, I will not want you.

I will not even want myself.

Which parts will you like of me

Do they only look like the parts that belong to you


When my things began creeping at the foot of my bed

I started keeping things by my pillow

And when I stepped off my bed the books I hadn’t read were stacked to my knees the letters friends had written me poked out underneath

My medals hung off the side of the wardrobe with the rosaries I kept in case I should believe

The rows of bottles I used to sustain myself collect dust

Half-checked to-do lists lie in wait


With this many fresh starts, my head begs for clear endings,

not the ambiguity of things, but the clarity of nothingness.


The day I emptied everything out I thought my house would look different

Thought if I expelled things and people that did not feel mine

I would be free

In the end all it is is space

And what if it never fills again

What if all that is left are walls