September 26 2024
Your curtains are opaque and you try to see through them. Leave for anywhere but first
tint the shades. Make me feel the sun without averting my iris. Pretend to shut the blinds.
I’ll leave an unwanted page for you to find. Beneath the floorboard of your house without
foundations. Next to coffins of those you got scraped by. Ask me to scatter their bones
and I’d have to start by peeling off my own skin first. Write them your sweet nothings.
Hand me the shortest note. Shadetinter.