In the book of my life
A field of blue roses
Dot the i's.
If you skimmed the pages
you would find tear drop stains and empty picture frames.
Old friends, new places,
tired and Depressed faces.
A hot ink blot mess and
cold paper hands unzipping my black dress.
The steam from a bowl of coconut thai soup
Blurs the words on page 44.
On page 50, my best friend calls me a whore.
To run through these ripped pages,
looking for the end.
A quiet forest of cream-colored graves
Waiting at the turn of every page.
