You win,
but I wish the years would stop coming.
I am dizzy
in daydreams,
and I despise
the random hair
stuck to my iPhone.
I always assume
I am one second from death.
the blurry parts of my eyelashes,
the only ones I can see,
the only ones I can convince
and circle.
one day I will indeed be dead,
and my lips lull me to kiss you.