i am tired of being

tethered to you,

of being responsible

for feelings that are

not my own,

results of your whims.

 

i am tired of being afraid

that it came to pass,

and you will leave me here

standing in the rain to catch

the droplets on my tongue

alone

while you take buckets

of what we collected and leave

without ever joining me.

 

i am tired of looking at the blue

sky cleared and thinking only

of the way the sky captures

me like your eyes did,

that same radiant hue

i fall for every time,

whether interrupted

by clouds or black irises that never

bloom when the sun touches them.

 

i am tired of playing out these words

in my head that will never be

said to me or you across the miles,

and i do not want your poetry

any more because you only

want me for mine.

i want to wear this dress

and never think of what you would say

if you saw me in it—

you will never care to look.

 

i want to erase you

from all the texts I write

because nobody wants to read

the same character over

and over again, especially

if she is you.

 

this heart flutter is my reminder that i am here

i am anxious for reasons that are

and will be unknown to me.

now,

i hardly ever get ill,

but i find myself hoping for a cold

so i could have an excuse to sleep

this whole thing away.

my life is a race—

i want to sit this one out.

 

i am a sunflower left in the shade.

i plan to stop existing before my gums

are unable to hold onto my teeth.

most of the time,

i feel like i am at death’s door,

buying time by fumbling for the right key.