sippy cup cocktail

i love and i rage

and i buy fancy little things just to

squander

upon what it means to be -

i have this fear

of death

not of my own but of the ones i love

and yet there are moments unbearable

between us.

i make a scene and

though i’m twenty two i feel like i’m three and nobody understands me and

i drink my cocktail through a sippy cup straw

and i cry for the same ones who rip my heart apart and i realize that maybe this is better than nothing at all

i’d rather argue with them then

fight with a wall

and though it’s quite taxing

they all come around

i know that they love me, to be lost and be found.