we sat across from each other in the neon glare
you had that look like i was a stain on your good coat
a cheap drink you accidentally spilled on your lap
while i was coming apart at the joints
perched on the edge of the table swinging my legs
drunk on nothing but my own wild panic
unable to cross those five feet of sticky floor
to drag my mouth against yours
i drowned in the pages of my own notebook back then
bleeding ink and letting hands i didn’t even know
touch my face while you watched with that cold disgust
like i was an accident on the highway
your mouth went hard and it broke my ribs
i bolted out into the humid night
dragging my bad leg like a broken wing
the cold metal of the crutch biting my palm
every step a separate hammer to the hip
until i ran out of road
i crawled into the dumpster behind the pharmacy
curled up with the rot and the shredded paper
and let the salt water wash the makeup from my skin
don’t waste your tears on that girl
she was a beautiful disaster and she tasted like iron
—lyra moon (you can only wreck a house so many times before it becomes a monument)
june 27, 2026