My life’s destroyed,
my world’s not ok.
Why don’t you come here and
burn my bed and
sleep on the floor?
Breath again and show me your
happiness.
I’m still trying to find my place
but he’s moving every day.
Feed me with his bones, please.
I’m going mental because
father never hugged me, mama.
And it’s my fault because
I’ve spent so many hours in The Met
staring at their eyes.
Did you know that Van Gogh was
quite insane?
I’m too.
Believe. Me. Please.
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