I collect my teeth like
candy, and I breathe to take less
room and fit into hallways I never
wanted to go down before.

in generous love I stop eating
bones and lick faith from the
kneecaps of old little girls
with holes in their jeans.

I say goodbye like 
cold anger
and a bottle of rum
 from the
third shelf up. 

this house does not belong
me anymore,
I am small again

I am looking up to you again,

this time, I spilled mom’s perfume

in my hands,
this time, I haven’t grown past 5’2,

you still tower over me
a city wall,
like a skyscraper,

like the sun in the winter.
I’ve tried to say goodbye,

I’ve been cold lately,
I’ve been
 trying to find a way to stay 
genuine and kind, but I am 
full of spite that I left in our 
kitchen floors,
and the 
crawl space in our old house.

my blood is still left in the grout,

after my hand shook until it fell
and I can still smell the perfume
 you wore when I tried to
 kill myself,
and it reminds me 
vanilla cookies that you still make

when it’s chilly outside

and I don’t
 want to leave
but my anger is too
 hot to live here anymore,
and I collect my teeth
like candy.

Packing // e.k.c (via hotaliens)

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