i have a brand new prescription that says 'do not mix with angst at four am'. bright green blue red pills.
i carry them on my purse, in my pockets and my fisted hands. maybe tomorrow, now, will be the night we go for a ride. or just a high. whatever, i don't need you to be happy. scratch that. i do not need you.
bright green, or to be perfectly honest i just wanted you to care. wanted you to be interested. but, whatever. bright blue, i have pills for that, and some to forget you as well. bright red. there's no need to mix my fear with my need to be unhappy. instead i have this: you pushed my hair out of my face. pushed my hair behind my ears with your fingers and i, i could've sworn it wasn't the first time. it wasn't the first time you made me feel like i was shaking. but it was. my teeth and the roots of my hair. the back of my knees weak and oh, the space behind my ribs aching to be held. i don't hope for anything except for the words you make believe.
there you are, in the pause between the things i know are true and the things i believe.