but don’t expect,
never expect
don’t hold high expectations of me
between the crevices of your fingers
like: who loves me, who cares
I can’t make you stop though I want to
I can’t make you give up
I haven’t done laundry in weeks
and the way my clothes feel, worn to the bone
is it a replication of your love for me?
is it an imitation of adoration worn thin?
can you keep on?
I have never felt this way before
it was close to something, then close to nothing
it was thoughts of something, then thoughts of nothing
it was love of something, love of someone,
then love of nothing at all.
I am fading, can you see me
I am fading, can you hear me
I am disappearing, wasting away
brittle bones, thin skin, chalk face, marble eyes, sliver lips, ghost.
you’re already doing that on your own
I can’t make you save me, but I want you to
look at me
look through me
my voice, the dull whir of the fan