Unsurprising that you didn't call, but you never came.
I guess I sat waiting for a dead person to love me.
Everybody tells me to do better.
I never did feel sorry for the letter-
in between the lines, he'd read, 'forget her'.
I never thought much about whether he would
but just like that week of summer I refused food
he didn't notice, he didn't see.
I realise now I was testing his love for me-
there's nothing there, at least we agree.
I have felt okay and okay, and not okay.
Stopped caring about my birthday.
Too old now to remember much anyway.
I forget how old I am. There's a burn in my eyes-
I'm self-taught, but we all learn to swallow lies.
