from a couch, below the knee

stationary bias

i can’t lift a brow of forgiveness anymore

our book tumbles

pages mixed together

it’s your turn

lift a leg and kick, wiggle your toes

drift apart

i’ll stick to the one memory that didn’t make me nauseous


contained in a box, wrapped and unwanted

i sat under trees as a kid

your selfish ways made me lift the lid and rid the world of desires that hid on shelves

presence you never gave me

dates never came

we didn’t believe

he came to reclaim

i’d rather forget my last name

than feel the shame that came when the finger of blame was pointed at me

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