to see through a glass darkly
waking to another evening
so sure that sleep would end me
these walls leak memories like ink
through a silkscreen.
i focus on remembering
how to breathe, the last thing i ate,
and having babies.
as i search my eyes
for the girl who is stuck
behind the irises, and has been
since 2014. i wonder how she'd feel
about the things she doesn't even know
are happening, and if she'd recognise me
if we passed on the street.
“tell me again about that thing i said?”
“how many hours until i’m with him again?”
its a little too much to be all fucked up
with only her to see it.
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