This is not my story. These are not my words. I could not alter this story as it’s perfect just as it came in.
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All the doors are locked
Our dog stares out into the dark at the sounds of a different house
And I miss you
The rain falls in our house through the roof to a small green pot that sits in the middle of the kitchen floor
Do you miss me?
Will I ever sleep again in that house, with the doors wide open breeze flowing
Safe because nothing can hurt us when we are standing together?
And I miss you
I know its not right because I’ve never felt so wrong
God damn do I wish I never felt this way
Constant knots in my stomach
Sweet saliva fills the back of my mouth
I’m retching over an empty foreign toilet bowl
And I miss you
I wonder if that pot rests alone tonight
It’s filling the only sound in our now locked house
Or if you are there, retching and writhing in a bed of pain like mine
And do you miss me?