She spits into the sink and then counts the number of rings around her eyes until she falls asleep dreaming of electricity. She chews her nails and draws back the curtains while poking her jelly rolls that seem twice as big in the glare of the light shining in through the window. She’s a nail and a shard of glass and a mouse being swallowed by a snake. She’s a thorn in your side and a shrew that can’t be tamed and sometimes when she lets down her guard, she’s the keys of a piano played in such a way you can’t help but put down your drink and sit there in silence thinking about what it would be like to see her making snow angels while wearing a bridal veil with her legs adorned in black tights. Birds, there are many birds as black as the oil that flows through the forest to her feet, and when she dips in her toes while pinching her nipples, she grits her teeth and swallows the dust that gravitates around her hips while reciting lines of text written by a lover who now loves some other. Those rings of Saturn that are in the news. They say they’re much younger than originally thought, but what good does that do for us? What good does anything do when it doesn’t involve her sinking her nails into my back and taking a bite out of me? The snow feels so cold as it falls in slow motion. The way the days float away like slush down the gutter. Pearl necklace. Pearl earrings. Crows as ravens as feathers that land in her outstretched hand as she prays for happiness secretly knowing such a thing is merely wishful thinking. You reap what you sow, but so much is luck it’s a headache even thinking about it. Still, that doesn’t prevent her from dividing, and it doesn’t stop me from losing my mind. We are mirrored, and we are whole. We are incomplete and standing on the edge. What a mess and what a rush. What a glorious feeling knowing this is just a one off, and that after we’re gone, none shall be as we have been. Not even close.