dusty séances on the
bedroom floor
crayons and candles
let me
ride on the back
I’m so cold I’m so warm
I’m
reaching expert level self-sabotage
I was happy, happy
with my fingers like tendrils of
summer vegetables wrapping around
your sternum popping at the core
of all the stairwells I remember
yours
had the most stray letters
on the windowsill and
the door was marked with a name
long departed
the day was
breaking, breaking
gray and orange while I lay
still and felt nothing