The Crying Girl's dead.
I mean, there's a part
Of her that's always
In me.
But she's gone.
The one where a joking
"I hate you"
Would get the water flowing.
Where just thinking
About certain people,
Certain moments,
Certain places
Could wheel her into
Such a spinning cycle
Of insecurity.
And I know
I'm upset.
And she's not there.
I don't know where
She went, but I know
When she'll return.
She comes when I'm
Most vulnerable.
When the littlest thing
Will irritate me.
And she'll come.
She might be coming
Soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment