I am three shades of pastel,
But only two of them look like blood.
Did you hear the way I said that?
Or see the way my mouth turned to charcoal before the lie even left my lips?
But you won’t believe it anyways.
Because you kiss like a rock,
And no matter how soft life is,
It can’t cushion the way I fall against you.
I know you think I am all one piece,
But you forgot about the part I left back in Chicago,
When we entered the coffee shop, and there was a little girl on the barstool,
Drawing hearts on here knees,
And they looked like little red scars, or maybe like they where made out of yard and stuck on my some mutation of gravity,
Whatever the correct image was, it stuck to my bones and made them turn into magnets that repelled the world instead of drawing it closer.
The lady behind the counter asked me what I wanted, in a toned down, drug longing voice, and I couldn’t say anything, because who really knows the answer to that question?
She, a mirage of a woman who worked for minimum wage, and me, not quite sure what to even call myself. She asked again, her fingers drifting to a blue button on her shirt that reminded me of half way to insanity,
because it was coming off in just the right way to make me want it all the way undone.
I shook my head and said I wanted a double shot latte…

I’ve been lying ever since.