the only difference between a safe house and
a prison is intent,

so don't lie to me.

i've bent bobby pins enough to pick it
apart,

the too close for comfort, the itch on your back,

how we tally it up, rally the rebel yells and the
outliers like broken lighthouses.

train tracks out of me, tack the endless question,
tackle me to the ground and start over.

I have enough scars, so forget it.

the food is on fire, but at least it's cooked.

cool metal handle, lukewarm water and smoke,
candle-like in the candlelight.

what was raw before is now ash. you've
made a difference, but

was it an improvement?