I chore by woozy by smoking everything in sight I chore by medicating and letting the sides affect me crying at roadkill by owning taking up space not taking care
I burden by poetry by reading you poetry talking too fast remembering too little by walking alone unsafe
I chore by panicking at white trucks and appetite suppressants I didn’t ask for crying (always) at eight years at five years at 24 months at the always that keeps shrinking away from me
Now I chore astoundingly by decluttering by choring myself cleaning and painting and feeling alive alive alive!
Though touching is not a burden to you. Groping is not a burden. No-chore kissing and hands on my *** whenever and too much to be frank give me my boundaries my no's
But you should know I am not a burden a task to complete dead weight snag hitch knot Loving me is not a chore.
I wrote in a poem once that you didn't understand about a no one that you saw as yourself. I felt your beating heart then and knew you now it's true I can't touch you but it's no matter.