it got increasingly better much later, i promise.
smokey basements and talks about grandmothers are not a good way to end a night.
unless you have to write a paper about family.
which i do.
is it smokey or smoky?
i guess i should know.
(not getting the goal accomplished)
do i keep
going back to
a smoke infested sweatshirt.
why do you want this?
i hate being lonely.
lonely enough to
kiss without passion.
and lie about where i spend my evenings.
i learned what line breaks mean.
and strategically written sentences,
words combined with unmade beds.
i already knew.
i think i know everything.
and lost fingers
my hands speak for themselves.
tell me, would you,
what's the point in structure?