i missed you so i held myself between
morning walls and moaned alone.
filled house with your hair,
drew blinds. hid in shadow patches,
evaded light for relief.
i ate advil, wrestled bed sheets.
played a song that rang out too long,
did not call you. i watched the candle burn,
stayed the course.
i tried on your t-shirt, stood in the mirror,
shivered hands along my sloping chest,
it was not the same.
i missed you. so walked the other way to the park.
hated a girl, her thickish animal hair and rosebud arse,
walking with a man who had your back.
did not call you. instead,
sat under an oak, snapped vertebrae along twigs,
lined them up. i waited for you to find me.
i cast my twigs one at a time,
hard into the distance.
walked home the long way, cracking pavement,
carrying dirt under fingernails.
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