you can find me in complete silence
in the corner.
medicinal fingers curved into myself,
into claws.
I’m triggered by the music and pacing
in 9.9 cubic square feet.
I’m feeling my nails dig into
my palm.
you say hello.

you can find me frozen
one week later,
woven in an opalite tapestry
spread across your floor.
I understand confession.
I’m Catholic.
I ask for judgment,
not counsel.
some retribution.
let’s make this clear.
let’s make this public.
I’m stuck in a projection
so you barely have a face
that isn’t my reflection.
at least I give you transparency,
moping opacity.
my veins are bursting with crisis,
with clarity.
you walk across my pubic bone
uncarefully.

you recognize me months later by the wallow,
by the
chewed straw in my hand,
the callus in my palm,
the bad polish job.
I tell you what love feels like
based on the…

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