Blank Doll speaks.

To measure a day

By the moments of hurt, by the number of times you break my skin with the crack of leather, by the number of places where it hurts, by the number of bones you break, by the number of times my heart breaks, by the number of times my tears run dry, by the hours I spend wishing you were dead.

By the cups of coffee we share at the neighbourhood cafe, by the hours you make me wait while you choose your clothes, by the number of places we go to before you deign it fit for dinner, by the number of times you insist we watch a movie even though I hate watching movies, by the hours I spend hoping this never ends.

By the moments I spend thinking about you, by the hours I spend trying to catch your scent in everything, by the roads I walk just to see your reflection on the windows of some long forgotten house, by the seas I cry just to have you drift back to me, by the days I spend doing nothing but wait.

By the letters I read wishing they'd come from a lover, by the hours I spend alone wondering what ifs, by the roads I walk in solitude wishing the couples dead, by the ice cream cones I eat dreaming, by the sketchbooks I spent figuring out your face, by the nights I spend wishing I actually had you.

If I could actually have you.

C'est tout.