to admit maybe
that the beginning of this year
and the ending of it
were the same.
they weren't.
at all.
i don't remember anything before july.
i feel as if those warm months were lost
drowned in alcohol
but they weren't-
i just
erased the good memories.
i guess i remember my scarred skin.
my long hair and my broken nails.
my lean, clean feet.
my bruised legs.
now i only know
scarred hands and feet.
good skin, short hair
pale as a sheet.
there's an exhaustion buried deep within me.
bigger than the anger.
bigger than the hate.
oh how times have changed.
i feel like there's
hope?
but i'm still,
i'm still
so alone