Chapstick In a Restaurant
There was nothing left for me to do but put on chapstick so I rubbed the soft
mush into my lips with my head facing every corner of the abandoned
restaurant—full of people.
I frowned. I frowned at the fighter, could never smile at a lover and I fell. I fell into
soggy streets, stumbling, stomach rumbling, with foamy fluid all around, and a
hole emerges from the depth of my soul—or the side of the wet street, not sure
which anymore.
Instead of things falling into the hole, the hole fell into things and my life became
confused. I wore my smile down and it hurt.
I don’t want to cry anymore, I don’t want tears to send me to sleep. But
sometimes it’s harder to take away the bad thoughts than it is to think of them.
harder to breathe than remain thoughtless.
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