when it runs out.
when the pain comes back
and I’m forced to reckon with the fact that
I’m not invincible
or even durable.
when I lose interest in you
and you lose interest in me right back.
when there no more secrets for me to reveal
and no more backstory to make me make sense.
when I’m back where I started. or worse:
when I see that I never really left.

it’s getting darker earlier
and I feel myself slipping.
I feel the real me in me somewhere,
fighting for space.
I haven’t been eating well
or sleeping well
or doing anything well
or even doing anything.
how many times must I learn the same lesson?
“as many times as it takes”.

you think I’m a whore,
that’s okay. I don’t care what you think about that.
I care about taking what I need from you
and not getting all consumed in the process.
like my first credit card, like a black hole.
like a deal with the devil.
full of empty, empty so sharp you’ll never
ever get to forget the feeling.

if you could find my weak spots you’d...