i pick an object up
put it down
walk away
turn around
going back to the object
but
I can’t remember
where I put it
my mind races
with imagery
a crisp white shirt
black silk
a reality
in my dreams
and in
my waking life
unaccustomed
to the kindness
on one hand
accustomed to
the hurt
on
the
other
I want to tell them
I’m just not that bad
but
they
won’t listen
so I turn to those that love me.

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