writer's block

i hate watching

you. i hate the blood

that pumps underneath your right hand

and runs through you red and thick and salty--

i hate your stubborn lips, mouthing

every 

word.

i wish i didn't wonder

i bought pumpkin pie lip balm that tasted like

fall in california

even though i'm in new hampshire

and the leaves are curling. 

the lights in sephora were sickly bright

like the lights