As the future looks me in the eyes she draws in blood on her arm. Shock keeps the words from escaping. Is this art? Is this a sign for where I’m headed? Who knows, I try my best to not worry for things that are yet to come. While he’s gone, I go into his apartment and lick the grape colored jam leftover on his saucer hoping that maybe I’ll get the fix I need. When nothing happens I bore and head to his room. Searching searching, I find his old paintings. One by one I gently toss them from the window. Each landing on a different corner. The bottom right means we’ll marry, but not one lands that way. I search for evidence of some other woman, thing is, I can’t remember what’s my own anymore. I gather the hair ties and strands of hair tucked safely under his…