Time twists around my fingers
Like her fingers in her hair
Blonde hair
She wraps it tight and pulls it
Some kind of disorder
Ripping your hair out
And I want to throw everything backward
I keep trying to put my finger on it
On the place where everything changed
Where I was suddenly discontent -
When you opened your coat for me and I refused to allow you to wrap me up in it?
When I invited you in and I should have kept you at arm's length?
When I allowed him to touch me even when I didn't want it?
When I sat outside listening when I really wanted to be inside singing?
When I told you it was okay if you fell in love with her?
When I let go of your hand during Red Rover?
When I told both of you I was your best friend because I didn't want to see either of your hurting?
-
And maybe,
I think,
That has been always
A crying baby discontent outside the womb
The fetus, discontent, inside the uterus - kicking and clawing
And I keep thinking I am just on the cusp of it
Of figuring something out
But I crawl through the opening
I've made
With only my nails as shovels
And inside I find another door
And another
And another
And those doors don't end
And there are days when
In between rooms
I don't want to dig anymore
I just want to sit
And have something be real for me.
And nothing is.
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