Rather than worry that my poem is fully memorized and performable for tomorrow evening, I have instead put together my imaginary perfect poetry reading outfit. Yes, I want to channel the romantics, apparently. Too bad my own closet is rather lacking in things I actually like anytime I'm flustered by something. Thus, I hate everything I own, (and solidify my girliness).
We were broken, didn't know it
I can go nowhere
I burn candles and stare at a ghost
Deep inside of you.