birthdays & age.

grey mornings and my hair is wet. i'm over my ex. i've discovered this, by the sinking feeling & knowledge that i've spent a good part of my celebratory night, sitting in a black dress, and six inch stilettos, and my feelings, under city lights, in the bad magic of drunk calls. someone else. 

i don't remember. not much anyway. i've gotten rid of the evidence, but it happened.
maybe i don't know how to be happy about things, but i think i'd know to be happy when i have things to be happy about.

i don't know how this happened, besides weakness.
i wish i wasn't so imperfect. i don't like pedestals, or the illumination of good feelings because i spend so much time finding solace on concrete sidewalks. especially lately.
i think i need to wean myself off whatever i'm letting myself do to me. i'm not old, but i'm tired of the things that've always made me tired.

about seven months ago, someone said, "i'm not going to abandon you." and i laughed, "i don't have abandonment issues."

it's one slow conversation. all the silence fills the gaps where the beat is supposed to go.
if this was a heart, it's pretty much dead.