curling my bangs
was like keeping you around,
every morning i woke up and
plugged in the iron,
heated the coils and burned my
fingertips into the screen
of my phone,
now they're wild and crazy
like my mind
looping it all as if
recovering the document
will bring back the muse,
unfortunately
chasing our love and beating
a spider against the wall
have the same ending,
it's already dead
so why are we still standing
with the shoe
poised above our heads?
