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Apr 2018
Her and I move around one another, underneath our skin and muscle, vein and bone. Sometimes she's out on our head yelling at the world, sometimes she's between our ribs, breathing heavy through the heartbreak.
When I have to go away, she finds her way into our brain and we become tuned to a deeper pitch. Her pitch. Darker, truer sound.
She changes us-- The way we think: that bread knife cuts materials much more precious than just bread, The way we feel: **** him, **** him, **** him for good, How we speak: here is every single thing we've ever kept a secret, How we fight: these screams and curses can last for days, Even the way we ****: scarred legs spreading for strangers while wet lips taste too fast.
When I come back with hands over ears, they're all covering theirs, too. Their eyes are wide and white with glare, and I can feel her crawling back inside. Our pitch is tuned back to my own, its quiet cheerfulness buzzing through our body as I keep us hard as steel. I staple the corners of our mouth, shaping the prettiest smile we can give. I remind her how to move as I walk us through the world, she reminds me I am her as I try to sew my split.
MJ
Written by
MJ  Seattle
(Seattle)   
80
   life's jump
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