With salty eyes and a wet face, I come to tell you the story that has been rewritten.
I do not remember the time, month or place.
Just that
I had played with dolls that day
and waited to watch taped cartoons on replay.
The night was full, together and never apart from the place that I stayed.
A bond that felt genetic to the core of my state.
This night was the last time I felt whole.
The last night that everything was interconnected through time and space.
No matter how far I strayed every place felt like a home. Or at least not too far away.
Like monozygotic twins reared apart, I was never too far away.
A genetic bond that set the night and day.
Many bodies in one soul.
My mother left this day.
“I promise I'll be better. I'll sleep in my own bed. Ill behave. I won't ask for more dolls or bother you when I mess up the tapes. Don’t leave. Stay here. Look at me I don’t take up much space. There’s room for you here under my cape.”
Despite my efforts what was written was written.
Eventually, you came home and said you had found your place.
I’ve yet to find a place with an address I remember.

I don't know how to fix this part of me.
It's not you, it's me.
As much as I want it to be you
it's me.

Go far, run, and leave this place.
I'll try and keep it secret from the most selfish parts of me.