restive

Could never whistle
and make music out of water,
so I sit in a box and
listen to John Mayer
to feel good about break-ups

my eyes, they never said much,
smile almost unfamiliar
nothing grew in me,
ever
today I cut my hair short
saved them locks

I went out to get drunk by myself
in the arms of a cold December night,
witnessed some things which never existed
came back 
and
slept restlessly