ivyparks

i wish that everyone could
be as intimately excited by myself,
so absolutely infatuated and repulsed
as i am. 

i wish i could erase my desperate 
cries and push my howling laugh and

leaving, in a strange way,
seems to hurt more than 
being left, something
i never thought i would say.

but my head hurts and
you've given up on calling me,
so i really can't tell if you
ever cared.

i'm standing in the middle of a crowd,
and all i can hear is the resounding
sound of a piano, something that used
to make me fall asleep but now seems
to keep me awake, pounding at my temple
as i fight to close my eyes. 

i decide that i like the feeling of the wind against my
damp skin, the way it dances across my hair,
my face a monochrome mess as summer
seeps out of my body.

the constellations clinging to my thighs fade,

life goes by as if i am sitting in the
backseat of a car, watching droplets race
down the glass because there is nothing
else for me to do. 

watching my reflection because you
are not here, and there was no "you" in

happiness is the ache in
my muscles at 5:32 in the afternoon,
the gentle reminder that i am real
and i haven't faded
(yet).

the gold specks in someone's eyes
that come out in the sun, the warmth