summetime sadness but it is winter
(it's autumn)
and i assure you that none of my endings had looked so close before, as if i might drop into nothingness from one minute to other,
as if there were some entity pushing me somewhere that in fact does not exist
and the little drops of me that i have left behind in all those places i've wondered before
became transparent and bland and gluey and awful
absorbed in some liquid i fall, soaked up to my toes
i take off my clothes, i untie my hair
i throw away my socks and put on flip-flops
and meanwhile, your attentive look over there that makes me wonder
if i were a woman, would you wear my shoes? that i've left behind, entangled in some of my worst experiences
altogether we've danced, but in the end it is i who fall / off the edge into a warm,
empty place
