There's a skeleton face in a window
and all I really want to do
is curl up under a blanket
because it feels like Halloween
and my heart is cold.
This week feels like forever.
A permanent Monday
that I can't erase
no matter how hard I scrub.
They're taking my picture
but I don't feel beautiful.
I'm holding onto hope
and a poem
folded in perfect squares.
Leaves fall from twisted trees
whose branches scratch my window,
haunting me,
never letting me sleep.
I don't know why I do this to me.
I break my own heart
instead of letting it beat
into my blasting headphones.
I dream and wish on eyelashes
but I never do anything about it.
You could have been mine
but I never did anything about it.
