I put my foot
in my mouth, again.

Tastes like
cheap boots
and walking
alone. The ice
is numbing,
better never
warm at all.
Lust lost in
abandonment.

Nothing is ever black,
not white.

In frustration
I do not say
the things I
really mean—
Stubbornness.
I learned it
from my mother.

Expected to, you
read the words inside
my mind. What I
say is in between
my lips,
the lines.

Understand
the paradox:

I’m weak
even when
I’m strong.