I Am A Very Drawn-Out Panic Attack
By Lyndsay Coloracci
Art by Mitsuko Brooks

I want to take a photograph of you and turn the exposure up
until i can see right fucking through you
you remind me of words i like when very carefully articulated
but otherwise can’t stand to hear

i think of you when i smile
i've spent years brushing my teeth after breakfast
but black coffee is too honest--teeth still stain

i’m sorry that you’re all i ever want to talk about
i want to kiss you three hundred thousand times and then die

your face feels like ‘where am i’ repeated fifty times
some things i won’t believe until i hear them from one person
right now i don’t believe that i am loved 

sometimes i have to find old conversations in texts or emails or chats
in order to believe that the people i’ve talked to are real

it’s hard to wish no one and everyone had touched me

the human brain can’t tell the difference between a memory of an experience
and a false memory of an experience

From Your Roof

like the way my mother used to tell me to save things for a rainy day,
you save me for when you’re feeling particularly lonely

you’re somewhere wrapping your body around
anything that isn’t me
i am telling everyone that i just need one
non-painful experience and then that’s it

i am going to hide somewhere at the end of march
or the beginning of april
i know that it is possible to make new things familiar
and i can learn to breathe the ghost of you

i’ll wait at this grave forever
the sky has been pale pink for two months
when night finally falls i will resolve to stay in the north
but it is ninety degrees and my body feels
cold like january


Lyndsay Coloracci lives in Philadelphia
Mitsuko Brooks lives in Queens