Most days, inside my skin, I feel about 22- but when I think of him my bones ache like im going on 48... And it reminds me that life is fuller without than within the bound of his arms.
Lately my skin is kissed by even the slightest of wind and my hair dances in its song- and I know what it is now, to feel like you’ve opened your eyes for the first time.
I was chained to that want like a dog to a tree for so long I had forgotten the most tender parts of me- and I am sad to realize what I belted at sermon after sermon turned out to not be a thing even alike to love…
Love is what im doing now.
Even after the apologies are made, the responsibility has yet to feel like Ive taken enough- and I know its just the residual of the sickness. Its only more of still looking to somehow meet the efforts of enough.
‘Ima a good girl, I am…’ Liza said to the Professor, but it wasn’t him she was trying to convince, it was herself.
It wont be long before I have my own place again… and I’ll be making new rituals that are clean of what was. But my heart wont lie to you or even me and say I don’t still love him.
Still will remain.
Because- all the wrong I went about it was the best I knew. I come from a dirt road, barefoot and more than a little mangled… and I promise what I gave was sweeter than anything I’d ever been given.
And that might be what pisses me off the most… I made it out of that place alive… but I wasn’t living. What a waste of fucking time. I’m 35 years old and I wasted my purpose on my habits.
‘Ima a good girl, I am…
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