there’s a muscle in
my jaw
that ticks like a clock,
and ink under my
skin that crawls out
through my eyes.
i am suffocated with
poetry
and liberated
at the hands of the rain.
there are secrets
in the creaking of my house
and falling of trees
and the swaying of leaves.
there is permanence
in the roots i have planted,
i have planted
in the people i love.
i have begged to be loved
yet the scars on my knees are
fading and the stitches are
falling away.
my brain won’t remember everything;
i hold memories
in the cracking of
my ribs
and the heaving of my
chest.
i hold memories in the
pads of my fingers
and the curl of my wrist.
i hold my memories
and i carry them everywhere,
like a flurry of petals
in my breath.
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