Hannah Contorts

Hannah.

Hannah.

Why don’t you answer your phone.

Don’t you know the way

I’ve bled for you,

The way I fed for you,

The way I contort

My body for you

Like a contortionist

With a broken body.

Hannah, Hannah.

It’s me. It’s me.

Don’t you see?

We bleed

All over the pavement

Like porcelain dolls.

Dolls

Are perfect in their boxes.

I speed into you…

Hannah. No.

Hannah, don’t go.

Hannah, I didn’t mean it.

Hannah, I’ve got a screw loose,

But you’re the one in a straightjacket.

Talking at the walls,

Exorcising my ghosts,

Like a Xerox machine

Could spit out enough

Copies of

The twisted life in salt.

Hannah,

Do you need me

To bleed?

Hannah, do you need me

To undo all the

Zippers I hide under most?

Hannah, you know

The hate breeds,

The mistrust reads

Like a Reddit post.

Hannah.

The line is dead.

Hannah.

Voicemails

Are

Always

The

Same.

Notes.

Hannah.

Hannah, take

Me

Into

Your mouth

Like mothballs.

Hannah

Cuts

My

Perfect

Mirage

Most…

Who am I, Hannah?