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Mothballs
brokenarrows

This place is an engine for remembering,
 1
I'm sure I sat here when I felt this fear
 2
curdle every ounce of fluid in me for
 3
the first time,
 4
When I was so sure that there was nothing
 5
more meaningful to be than someone
 6
to suffer alongside her friends,
 7
When I was so concerned with meaning something,
 8
To *mean* something,
 9
To make that fucking boy love me because
 10
only then could I quantify the worth contained
 11
in this body,
 12
This mass of cells connected into more parts always
 13
increasing in size,
 14
More magnitude built into delicate vessels
 15
carrying blood over bones,
 16
shepherding hemoglobin from lung to
 17
body to heart to lung,
 18
Because that goddamn fucking boy could
 19
really make something that was already so
 20
calculated, made already for a specific purpose,
 21
to respire, to move, to continue,
 22
he could surely make me matter more than
 23
what matter I already had moving though
 24
my smallest places,
 25
I don't know that I'd tell her if I could go back,
 26
Doubt that she would be impressed with
 27
these new fears,
 28
Will I have to reach deep into someone else's lungs today?
 29
Will this body I didn't value before hold it's own when I can't pay for these drugs anymore?
 30
How many mouths, hearts, soles, bones will I be responsible for?
 31
How much can I allow myself to know that none of this matters before I endanger anyone else's future at the expense of my own sanity?
 32
No, she wouldn't think much of me now, someone
 33
so busy trying not to matter so much at all anymore.
 34

23 Oct 16


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