pages 886–887
she say (you dont or maybe you do doesnt matter. nothing gets in) youre everything to me (im not even something to myself) (i know. you keep saying it like itll sink in) (im a locked room no key) im not even something to myself.
gallery one has concluded.
the exhibit has ended. but the subject remains.
no credits. no curtain calls.
just echoes in an empty room.
what you felt is yours to name.
step quietly.
we dont sign our reflections.
inside the book
selected work