all the best things are in my head

by amy sharp


he tells me everything is going to be fine
and I eat blue tortilla chips and stare at the sun
if you want to touch me
I’d not pull away
I tell him
only I don’t say it with my mouth
I say it in my head
why can’t you hear me?
tap my foot
fidget
touch my neck

the room is small
the weight of the air
it suddenly smells like matches
rain
firecrackers
mayhem
take a message please
I’m not even here