someday, the dust is going to settle

and the scab will form

over the hole you tore through me

the tapestry of hopes you’ve torn to shreds

with your jaded fingernails

and walk away

someday, i’ll brush the dust off my cheeks

and do my hair all pretty

for no one at all

and maybe i won’t need to tear myself to pieces

just to stay awake

amd i’ll know who i am

i’ll walk onto a stage

i’ll speak clear, and loud

and if you’re lucky

you’ll catch me on the radio

wouldn’t that be nice?

and i could put two smiley faces in my email

like a heartless killer

or tell you to shut the fuck up

when you talk about your outdated opinions

as though you expect me to agree

i could live my life like an inspirational quote

and retire to the town i grew up in

with all my best friends, and the charcoal trees to keep us company

and it’d be all right, really

and i know that hope can’t be trusted

but maybe this time, i could let it walk me home

in the dark

hold my hand

and tell shitty patchwork jokes

that make me laugh hysterically

kiss me thick-skinned and old

and leather-jacket-wearing

and blow away like smoke