I might turn to salt
for staying too long,
but that's what you do
when you love someone
between the booklight
and little songs that
still sing out to me
every morning, on down.
I am thinning
on what to do,
and in a week
while dreaming up,
trying to get back
so many years,
and don't want to waste more.
I have started asking
just who you are,
and it feels gross,
but nothing is wrong
so long as we keep
itching the backs of our eyes
in order to preserve the way
we look through our disguises.