‘ USELESS ME ‘ is what i whisper to myself as you rot away ‘gainst my arms . you rot just like those flowers in april , & my wings that sprung in may are decaying , too . & then you disappear for an eternity in august . then in november here i stand , rivulets wavering on my face as i wait for january whilst watching the mirror that presented this image to me on december : it was the crying , pathetic , useless me .
i am still teaching myself how to love in the dark.
over the phone your voice is softer than sunshine,
i won’t forget i’m coming home i swear—but
what you don’t know is that my heart is home
is where you are. i am just another empty body
ripping open my fingertips searching for your light,
still chasing the ashes you left behind.