Fade
I put my poems on a low simmer, wait for the water to evaporate. The good content is what's left after the fat runs out. That's my problem, greasing my words up until they mean nothing except selfish gluttony.
I wait for people to reply to my texts, emails, DM's. I never get what I'm looking for. I'm that pothole you hit on Highway 1, regrettable and full of nothing but air and the grind of rubber, spinning in circles of despair.
I love how spellcheck only highlights your word as misspelled only after you've typed the whole word. Sometimes, I make grave mistakes that were obviously wrong from the second my fingers touched the keyboard.
I yell in traffic and laugh when I pass them. I'm the girl you thought you knew, had pinned down, until she screams the lyrics to "Gangster's Paradise" at the T junction, holding a cup of coffee that burns but it feels so, so good to hurt like that. Like letters home, to the people who raised this pile of rotting flesh, this monster who hates herself for just about everything except her ability to speed in the fast lane. What a powerful feeling, what powerful moments keep us going.
I feel sorry for myself. I think the red heart button on social media is toxic. Who's clicking it? No one I know, not mostly. Writing should be for myself, but it ends up being for everyone else. I tailor my words to be the cleaner version of the original feeling. But it ends up like rap that gets bleeped out, the words that would have made a difference, made you feel something other than the mediocrity of censorship.
I can't say I love myself. I buy clothes off the rack at Goodwill, and cross my fingers the seams won't rip. I purse my lips when I see myself in the mirror. Just like mother.
I'm done with this sorry mess of the written word. I've said what I need to say. I can close my laptop and die happy, for I have said what I wanted to say in this moment: nothing lasts forever, and this piece of writing will fade away like so many coffee stains on black clothing. No one can see it, and no one will remember it, but I was present in that moment.