6.12.13
I have tried to shove you off
through my therapist's hands.
I have tried to travel.
6,000 miles from you
for a month, I felt like a stillborn.
For years I have had dreams about parasites
so real I wake up convinced.
I have stared wide-eyed at the thought
of taking scissors to what I see between us;
umbilical,
electric,
hollow as a drain.
Full of greatness today,
I gave you another last chance.
When it was time to stop crying,
I drove home alone.
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