from a bed, disinterested

i tugged at the elastic bottom of my red sweatshirt while you told me ‘it’ was never what i thought

looking down at the frayed ends

i’m sickened, scared, and sad considering the potential reality this meeting might have on how i proceed


i’ve kept secrets from you;

i can’t look at mirrors in public spaces

i’ve never held a lover after sex

i kick stones into cars on dark walks home

i’ve stabbed your face in daydream moments when you don’t rush to me while crashing through after-work’s door

there’s so much more

the reasons i claw my arms and pound my thigh on drives where tears fly listening to others cry through speakers hoping to feel something more than histories persistent pressing on the present no matter how much liquid i dump in my throat

wishing, waiting, wanting a separation from the reality that little hands were bit by violent words leaving scars seen every night before i try to close my eyes and bleed out your disinterest in the ways i was pounded sideways long enough to forget how to walk straight

i veil it all

drugs and alcohol

saying the names would give them weight

making them too heavy to carry in my heart, where they ensure the fracture will never heal, i couldn’t imagine, ever feeling whole

there are no replaceable pieces

it’s getting cold

i zipper my hoodie

turn around

and leave your explanations alone

carrying the devastation

forever changing my conversational tone

sewing my lips

leaving me breathless

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