We've got it bad

Dearheart,
why are you alone in the bathroom stall
without your quinidine?

there's no one here but
the love poems you
trace
on the concrete walls
and molded sinks.

are you feeling me
in those secret selfish worlds
beneath your fingernails?

without anyone to say:
you're beautiful
i love you
and the procainamide is on the top shelf.

--
I have come to the conlusion I am an anxious little girl. My head is swelling into my fingertips.

Hyperventilating really works miracles to make your lips numb.

I think tomorrow I will not walk into the closet and see him and be too scared to scream.