I used to dream about flying over the ocean in nothing but my shirt, now I dream about driving through fucking Kentucky.

I imagine you in the States, pushing stacks of work papers and our memories to the side, sense your enjoyment that you won’t see the worry of your behavior reflected in my eyes again. That you can buy and bang and be whomever you want,

Yes, I can imagine it now/ how we could each disappear completely/ connected only through memory's fault lines/

Liz spied the box of Kleenex right away. She sat down at the chair closest to the Kleenex.

I wonder how many crumbs he can drop to make a cookie, whole, so I can relax a little and throw out the self help books about how I'm not right in the motherfucking head,

He stops smiling and only says he loves me when prompted, as if asking me to pass the salt for his inner peace as it tastes too bland.

I know she's a dog person, as she owns one. “No, my asshole ex-boyfriend wanted one and then he left me with it.” she admits, then adds, “I don't even like dogs. All dogs are needy.”

Who are not here.