the currency of craving- unfinished

in this familiar place

words are cheap

but i’m broke,

and i’m still buying down the debt of making your acquaintance

words are cheap,

i fumble the coins of craving in my hands

i let half of them slip between my fingers.

maybe on purpose

as a statement

this time

the words i’d normally choose,

would sound worn at the edges

hopeless and hollow

and i wouldn’t mean them

and you’d know it