i do this thing when i am upset and frustrated where i pull my hair out and rip holes in my scalp until it bleeds.

it's really attractive.

a: what conversations.

who cares.

m: i care. don't be callous.

a: callous is a word used for cowardice and shame.

m: no, that's not what it means, at all, and that's not what i meant.

sometimes i wonder why i put myself through this at all. maybe there is more of an optimist in me than i thought.

you will come back to richmond and stop talking to me completely.

i hate being right.

a: okay.

m: STOP IT.

Wishbone by Richard Siken

You can’t get out of this one, Henry, you can’t get it out of me, and with this bullet

lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because

it’s all I have,

because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I’ll be your

slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this

bullet inside me

‘cause I couldn’t make you love me and I’m tired of pulling your teeth. Don’t you see, it’s like

I’ve swallowed your house keys, and it feels so natural, like the bullet was already there,

like it’s been waiting inside me the whole time.

Do you want it? Do you want anything I have? Will you throw me to the ground

like you mean it, reach inside and wrestle it out with your bare hands?

If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.