Wear the sweater.

Unravel it as you walk, write your secrets on the threads, let them trail behind you

leave your life in a one-line riddle,

the answer only being

“it was you.

it was you.”

Let it go.

Do not follow your way back to the beginning,

to the genesis of that *******,

to the start.

Let it go.

Your nails grow too fast.

You cut yourself with them,

find bruises on your body.

How pleasant,

reminders of how the body lives its own life,

regardless of you,

without.

Without you I am fetal.

Without you I am hunched, old.

Within you I am a haloed angel,

soul carrying soul carrying soul.