luggage in the trunk (Samhain)


vapor hanging in the air
escaping past these cracked lips
shivering in an oversize and damp hoodie
in a van with a broken heating system

it’s snowing, but it’s not sticking
and Mom is getting frustrated with the dysfunctional windshield wiper
that should be going wap-wap-wap
like my heart would be if it weren’t so frozen

the sideview mirror shows a girl with a rat’s nest for a mop of hair
and a face pinker than it should be for its circumstances
and a faint blur of a few splotches of sunset
hidden by an undershirt and asked about by nobody

the window in my room isn’t supposed to be easy enough for me to unlock
but I know how to anyways
and it’s like a reverse portal to a world
full of fluffy clichés and otherworldly pain


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