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Published: 2015-06-12 23:31:45 +0000 UTC; Views: 526; Favourites: 3; Downloads: 0
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(vi.)my doctor says to avoid the train
8:30 when your classes finish
she says you might follow me
i don't try to explain
that you'll find someone new
that i am replaceable
(iii.)
asking me to take off my clothes
so she can check my heartbeat
(ii.)
at the clinic the day before halloween
in a room of paper skeletons
a doctor dressed as a witch
keeps me waiting 45 minutes
before asking for a list
of choices i regret
(iv.)
minimum wage jobs i lost
for not being the right fit
hands spilling over the cash register
a facial twitch that isn't quite a smile
believing customers were hired killers
and offering them coffee anyway
(v.)
how sickness leaks into a voice
small claws
until no one let me borrow their phone.
train station lights leaking green
through skin, lungs
refusing to open, no way
to call home
everyone suddenly speaks
another language
an avenue of headshakes
between automatic doors
(viii.)
i still hesitate on calling it anything
you asked more times than i refused
and i wasn't even really there, really —
i wanted to disappear
and you wanted to help me
(i.)
i show up for classes
two weeks late
with shorter hair
longer sleeves
the same bad habits
lie about how we met
stave off
"what did you think
would happen?"
(vii.)
heading home four years later
8:47 at night
you trek through the artificial glow
sit down on the cracked vinyl
and press your outline into mine
you don't recognize me.
you compliment my hair.
