It's much too cold. I wish I read more. Play the housewife; watch the resentment build. It's not important. I'm going to miss Nadia. Bruises all over my left arm. Thank her. There's no conversation anymore; it's one-sided. It's not important. If these walls could talk. Studio floor, toe shoes untied. Kitty watching me from beneath the dresser. No, they don't matter to you; I don't matter to you. It's not important. I love scars; they're your body's memories. Fingerprints. Fingertips. Needles. I'll feel better when the winter's gone. I remember my Kitchen Window. I wanna go home. Remember Lucy? The late nights at Killarney Beach? It's not important. Some people in my life are pompous, eye-rolling know-it-alls who are too self-righteous to give a shit about anyone else. I know my diseases, my idiosyncrasies. Go to Hell. I'll meet ya there. Someday, someday. I'll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above. I listen to Edwin. And Darren. I miss your lips; they don't miss mine. It's not important. I promised to never fall in love with a stranger. But I always do. I think someone very close to me may have autism. Was any of this a mistake; should I have stayed longer? It's not important.
Love, Touch, Talk.
Be Grateful.
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