the space above my ears.

The 15th Layer of Paint on the Wall

"There, in the green dress," somebody said.

They weren't talking to me, but I followed the direction of their finger anyway.

My cheeks a shade of lavender, I approached and asked you about your clothes.

You took a sip of your lemonade and said "I like to wear the things I don't think are funny."

I drank up your words like nectar, and in minutes, you and I were alone in the hospital waiting room.

It was hindsight bias.

I tried to erase the mistakes, but you wanted them in bold, highlighted in neon.

It made me scared.

All the hours felt like another stick and poke tattoo.

All the love felt backhanded.

You're such a fool.

Don't you realize the words are limited?