Fray

It's not what you think...he scrawls 

inside a notebook I've been keeping 

or hoarding for that one-day-apocalyptic-ending. 

Where a notebook or diary 

would come in handy. 

Documenting hard trial and tribulation 

is important after all. 

It makes you forget 

about your starving

for more and more and more. 

I want to wipe away the single tear

from his eye even still. 

He could corner me in every room 

of this house but I'm somehow still 

a woman of no real exceptional difference. 

Weird and off putting

is something I can fill in the remaining 

blanks to 

inside that empty notebook 

I keep blathering on about... 

Cool and pretty smiling 

is something that scares me. 

Independence and all that flag waving... 

I'm still very weak and creepy

to all who meet me. 

The insect in every corner 

hiding until it's confusion 

brings it's ugly body into the light. 

I don't want him to die 

old and lonely. 

Even when I want him to die 

I don't want him to be alone. 

Like a man, 

I am wasting his best years. 

What remains of his hairline. 

I'm taking away ideas of family. 

Like a love who loves me. 

We all aren't worthy of it anyway. 

But I want it so bad. 

I would settle for just one night... 

watching Apocalypto with my dad.