all of my fingers have hangnails and my students think the Band-Aids are a fashion statement. I peel my bananas backwards, like opening a coat, but do not think this makes me interesting. in my apartment, the door squeaks a bit it sings me to sleep, a lullaby of ghosts. she gave me a clock for Christmas. it’s timing is all off, naturally.
peel back the layer of skin that advised you, shave off all follicles that told you this was a good idea take every part of your life that she touched to the salvation army and shout "take it, I'm done" and i guarantee she'll still be there even though there will be nothing left of you