June 8

there must be a section within the folds of my brain that knows how to feel, maybe

i swear i was over many different things but they howl like wolves at midnight

my ears keep ringing with memories i have tried and tried again to lose

they come back as monsters, to eat my soul in my sleep

God. I thought for sure I would stop writing about you but the truth is i can’t i just can’t. even though you treated me like shit

a palm reader can detect your name carved into my hands

and i don’t even cross your mind

maybe i’m your sunshine but you take me for granted

and i,

i am a night owl so when the moon (that’s you) comes out i feel a strange comfort

except that comfort is gone and it’s like there’s a new moon every night

maybe it’s inaccurate to call it a moon

because there’s nothing in the sky. you left before you arrived

i should just accept that but i can’t.

Will, you please come back?

—maybe that wasn’t a misplaced comma.