shame is a spotlight
watching with hungry eyes
as you drink coffee from a seashell

saying it tastes like your past lover

her laughter sweet as it touches

your tongue

jane doe smells like every september

but I am every august

just one month shy of perfect

filled with ruthless storms

like the Arizona desert

I was raised in

shame is an empty room
brimming with unmet need
yet still grows heavier
combing through old selfies
to remember what it looks like
or how it felt before

when I wear the proper mask
my words come out better
that night you said
I don’t know what you’re going to do next
the convincing porcelain of composure
became a face that would not shatter

we buried ourselves alive
knowing the bones would one day surface
as a singing monument
of how we have evolved
I will be better for it
and you will return to her