in you. You held all my broken
pieces. You smashed the glass
screen, shattered the woman
and dream. Stripped the veneer,
blew in my holes/laid me bare
down to my soles.

I lost myself
in reverie, shadow of
a memory. Tossing and sweating
as cut-up vegetables
in a wok, covered in the sauce.

I lost myself
on printed paper. Now
that it’s out there. There is no
eraser. For years I’ve spilled the ink
as perfume on the dresser/ born to
feel lesser.

I lost myself
in drink. My head in pain/ on the
brink of disaster. For me there is no
ever after.