as late as it gets, this would make the fifth or fiftieth orbit in the cycle a closer pattern; you know i can't help but keep trackmarks of these things, the collective foolishnesses we stock up and hold ourselves like hostages at the hand of-
of course: it ain't your fault, life like this just aches a little too much, a life of ingratiated and incapitulating desperation always suited me just fine but, sugar, right now, i need something more to keep me from wanting to breathe less, like i've been doing, the past however-long you've taken up residency inside of me.
in a small town, i'm too caught up in transit to ever be able to light fires, like you could be.
i know you'd never hurt me, but you still tore me apart, just like i asked.