escapril

grief: inventing lives to mourn

i dropped a knife on my toe
and skinned my knuckles
there's a paper cut between my fingers
a yellowing bruise ages on my knee like an old white shirt
on my bicep a trio of cat scratches
tick off the days till you call again
i drink coffee instead of eating
and boil myself for soup
my tarot cards won't speak to me
and i beg candles to change my mood
but the lighter spits
angrily at my thumb skin
so i revert back into childhood
lapping at the pain.