sometimes i find
myself staring deep in-
to the planes where we live;
and where we die,
with each death you detach,
and swing, i hang on-
to that very last
frayed thread:
im sorry i made you
remember how being
vulnerable felt.
and im sorry you forgot
in the first place.
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fuck, dionne, you write way too well.
ReplyDeletei so wish.
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