skinny mocha and a lavender latte

over a coffee
my mom tells me
that i'm the strongest person she knows

i don't know if strength is the right word
i think i'm too young to be strong
i think strength is often used interchangeably
with defeat
i think i’m old enough to give up

when i die it will be poetic
in the sense of my 5th grade journal
too honest and messy
in the sense of a shower i take before going to sleep
pointless and for nothing but my own comfort
in the sense of 7pm in the summer, waiting for a sunset
soon

i don't write and i don't do anything
i like pretending to be interesting
i don't like anything i write
i can't write a stanza anymore
i can't think of anything worth putting down
i can’t write
i can't think
i don't
i don’t
i can't

when i was born i didn't cry
i don't
i can't
i like pretending
i can't