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it is not encouraging
to hit rock bottom
the only place to go
is not “up”
because I have been
underground before

we count our minutes in 60’s
our currency in 100’s
I am counted in pastel pink
and a sunlit core
you are counted in cold steel
and thieving hands

I feel like I’m going to explode
pretty much constantly
maybe if I made you a number
it would invalidate you to me
you could be #3
I’ll say it’s because
our time difference
is three hours

I’m just thinking about you
and I wish that you’d call
or take any of my calls
or maybe I just wish that
you were as strong a person
as I thought you were

this poem is devolving

I am devolving
but thank you
for each injury

I’ll keep them in my pockets
like little prayers
that give me the strength you lack
it has been eighty-one days
since you spoke me to
(with the exception of the three hours
you used to make me more miserable
than I already was)

it has been eighty-one days
of punishment
though you refuse to admit
that punishment
is exactly what you’re doing

it has been eighty-two days
since the last time you said
that you loved me
approximately twelve hours
changed love to isolation

there was a bombing in your city
I risked contacting you
because I didn’t know if you
were injured, or possibly dead
because you are a stranger to me now

how dare you call me “love”
after you betrayed me
cheated, and lied
and blamed it on trust
and blamed it on me
told me that I am overreacting
over and over
that I am wrong
that I have always been wrong
because to you,
I am never right

news flash:
when you’re in love
your skin is made
of spiderwebs
you fall apart
under the slightest pressure
I can’t help but scream
when I think of touching you again

you repeat the words,
“space,” “distance,” “separation”
like a prayer
as if that could solve our problem
your tongue is a burning iron
your teeth are soldiers to distrust

you say you want to be truthful
but your entire body vibrates
under the thunder
of my sobs
each broken bone in my body
has repaired itself reinforced

rock and lead

compassion coiled tightly
around a clenched fist
because giving yourself
to anybody who asks
and getting ******* back
can weigh you down

and every lie
each one of them
sang to me
bore my second mutation
calloused skin,
toughened heart

reinforced and fossilized

even though I mention your names,
for the first time in my life
I am writing
about myself
made of clay
and the agave sun
my skin

del sol
and thick pages
of holy words

Prayin’ God’s right hand
gets there first
The only place
I’ve never been
afraid of the dark

the only home
I ever had
was with you

like a fat
rotten plum

I still carry your bruises
like that first bouquet
of roses with my name on it

but at least I recognize
that they are
beyond wilted

and maybe I never did
trust him
to love me

but that’s your responsibility
even though you’d
never acknowledge it

and he’s as bad as me - worse, even
he pretends his flowers
are still in bloom

and I guess
that isn’t my problem

but I would still feel better
if I could just
break her ******* nose
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