facade

i'm starting to think that

all love is facade.

when 4 years are spent

saying eventually

empty "i love you's"

i ask-

what, really, is the fucking point?

cutting yourself open

over and over

spilling yourself

into the brain of

someone who you'd

avoid if you saw them at

at an old, dirty gas station

five years down the road.

i am meant for this-

sitting in the dark getting drunk

and eating peanut m&ms.

my cheeks are tight from the dried tears

and I just want to hug my mom.