so what was it that you were hoping for?

just an instantaneous reprieve

i still piss myself off with the thought

that it wouldn’t matter if i worry

you’re just a pretty name on paper

and my stuttering pen refuses to bleed

so my head does all the purging

again and again and i want it to be fine

even if i’m inconsequentially yours

because you’ll never find me out

i’m too shaded but i can’t cool it off

blindsided by your automatic ideas so

i guess i’ll apologise under my breath

every night, just before you save my

nightmares and leave the brake in

your clutch, ripped off like the breaks

in my heaving ribs, mouthing sorry

over and over and i’m not over it

i’ll never be fucking over it anyway

is that all you want? don’t even bother

i’m just the mirror you’re pointing at

and i’m just mimicking your baby eyes

it’s exhausting to let it glint all day

but who will care? you’re the best that

it gets, and i’m half as worse as i will get

and we’re all just a bunch of broken bodies

seemingly set for headfirst collision but

only narrowly missing by a sinew in the end

well i shouldn’t really get my hopes up

you’re far too clever for my cry for help

and my delusions can only cash in so much

before you’re changing your mind again

and i think for a second, maybe, oh

just fucking maybe—falling prey again

to your last instantaneous reprieve

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