Ceiling fan shivers
My poor, lovely clothes stretched across my room
I join them, squeezing my cold, nude body into bed
Desperately wringing out shakes of anger and dismay
Leaving my heart next to my lamp to dry
Sopping in my selfish, gullible mess 

Next afternoon, I sift through my bag, only to find
Paper twisted and melted together
Can’t even make out my name
My favorite ink splotches all over my hands
The whole semester blotted away

I’d poured myself into that notebook.
Now I can’t shake any drops back out.

I glance behind it.
Mascara instantly meets and fuses anxiously with the ink on my hands
The diabolical mixture burns into my face.
 My forgotten heart gushes onto the floor. 

They’d trusted me with these- 

Poetry leaks around me
Towels are no use.
Dread begins to lap at my feet,
My ankles also consumed.
Eventually I kneel into my fate
Pray to dead gods
Take… a… deep…

You hesitantly tap me on the shoulder.
“You can stand up, can’t you?”  

I mean… sure, if that’s what you want