I have never been one to edit my writing
Or restate what I have already said
I have never been one to swallow smoke against my will
Or suck up words I've already spat out

I have never been one to iron my clothing
Or sew on patches
I am
I have no space in my mouth for apologies
I am still trying to unravel the strings of words caught in my teeth

I have never been one to stare at ceilings
I have learned to look away from clear pools of nothing
It is destructively easy to see yourself in the emptiness
To mistake your being for what is lacking in these no good things
I am an ill thing, but a young thing
I have not been set in stone

I have never been one to fantasize over a past I cannot live
Wish to be born into a different time
Sadness has no loyalties; she is not tied to your reality
She is sitting in the fillings of your mattress waiting to steal you away
Do not try to blow her away
Kill her with sharp glass pulled from your own recollections
That is the only way

I have never been one to curse the stars
I have never been one to curse the stars
I have never been one to curse the stars