hiding evidence.
my bones hurt and i'm not sure if i've outgrown this skin or not. worn out, worn in, worn thin like paint thinner on pale walls and dirty canvas. stretched me out thin, dug your fingernails beneath my skin. i kept it loose and new then, i remember it having more color then. i guess we developed callouses in constant. like simple accidents without the broken bones and contusions, much like car crash confusion. i remember sitting on ribcaged pianos that spoke in tongues sweeter than summer, and a winter i couldn't be happier to leave. i remember last night's last words. something about bubbles, ambulances, and notebook paper not worth writing on. and i'm still not sure what you meant, but i'm pretty sure i was listening.