no seriously
take it
here’s my passcode 
there’s like
over 200 finished poems on there now
plus drafts of old texts
you already have plus
every drunk thought
everyone’s number
every tinder chat
every bored selfie
a few nudes
it will take you
years to get through 
everything there’s also 
a 250+ page google doc
of my spark notes for a new economy
bet your girlfriend’s read some of those
anyway
there are 
passwords
period apps
shopping lists 
song requests to dj’s
the plate number
of an Uber driver
who lingered outside mine
a little too long
a list
of things I want to watch
workout regimens
ass day leg day arms abs
a running list of my dream dinner party guests 
in case a date asks me someday
but I hate going on dates
so I don’t know why I’m saving that 
my delta sky miles number
so many drafts of poems
that I forgot about and shit 
some of them are still good
my Myers Briggs
which keeps changing btw
and was apparently invented by union busters bad
packing lists
my ideal Frankenstein man meshing looks and vibes 
Remi Malik + Harry Styles 
ideal woman? probs like a Megan Fox + Aubrey Plaza combo 
need to check if those astrologically check out tho 
drafts to my therapist
my therapy app itself
go ahead, text her, I’ve been using my tools 
right now, one hundred and thirty thousand six hundred and twenty one unread emails
can you tell I’m the type of person who has a hard time 
erasing things?
oh, ALL of my astrology apps
YouTube history 
tldr; movie trailers, tarot readings, hiit workouts, a really long one on how NFT’s are a scam, 
and lots and lots of Taylor Swift – no surprise there
bank accounts but you already know how much I make, don’t you? 
tik tok (but do NOT fuck up my algorithm) 
work chats
an alarm for every increment of the day
my deplorable UberEats order history 
Facebook if you want to see all of my hidden albums from high school 
and of course, my call history (only through last summer tho)
ok now give me yours
my turn to excavate, bet I’m not gonna like what I’ve found 
wanna know a secret
I already went through yours when you hid it that night
you had sent a text
to someone asking “do you still like me?” which was like, so vulnerable and childlike you never asked me that I think you were too afraid of my answer 
I’m not sure I like you all the time
but I do love you so 

Kelly Mullins is an American poet who lives in Amsterdam. She runs the weekly poetry newsletter, Poetry Trapper Keeper, with her friend Larissa Fantini. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Poetry Ireland, Selcouth Station, Streetcake, SAND, Shock of the Femme, The Broadkill Review, Pine Hills Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, The Allegory Ridge Poetry Anthology, Hash Journal, Maudlin House and In Parentheses. You can find her hanging out on instagram @kellmullins