Lips

  the ghost of my wasted potential sits with me in the kitchen.

  I tell it that I'm doing the best that I can, to which she responses with a breezy laugh, her long hair stays perfect still.

  what, you think I've forgotten?

  I say aloud, upset now.

  it's written inside of my lips like stone, and you follow me without my consent now, from home to home to home.