mentally i am eating grocery store sushi in an empty Spirit Halloween parking lot

i mastered the skill of being alone

while someone still slept in bed beside me.

i'm so dang good at it

so why does it feel like the back of my throat has become a ghost,

has become excavated,

a void echoing endlessly each time i inhale

or see your face on my phone screen?

i fall asleep with your name on my mind every night

in an attempt to make you notice me vibrating

in the next city over,

a ball of sad and sexy energy.

i’m just trying to be mature by not directly begging for your attention

but i feel like i did when i smoked my first cigarette

and threw up in the front yard:

shaky and ashamed.

when i ask how to forget you, my friends suggest:

meditation

more exercise

therapy

a lobotomy

hahaha jk.

instead i take tequila shots and send nudes to my barista.

when i ask him if he’d like to come over sometime he says

good night.

mentally, i am also right here:

naked and holding my phone alone on my bedroom floor by candlelight.

at least men have stopped playing Death Cab for Cutie for me on their acoustic guitars

and thank god.

now they just tell me they had a girlfriend the last time i came over

and we fell asleep smelling like each other’s spit and sweat

in the center of their too-small bed.

mentally

i'm still learning how to move on.

i'm learning how to remove the part of me

that always wants what i can’t have.

Katy Haas is a queer poet, collage artist, and Furby enthusiast from mid-Michigan. Their work can be found in Delicate Friend, Taco Bell Quarterly, perhappened, and Bone Milk from Gutslut Press, among others. Find her on Instagram (@mouthshroom) or Twitter (@katyydidnt).