Pale in the flare light

Seams & Pores

degree to degree
folded ears, whistling speakers
Home alone and undressed
I missed this,
simple freedoms --
a working mom, my own cat
on my bed
Soft music curing romantic stressed headaches
No more crying, no more smiles
A whole me on a half-made bed
my bed, no one else's
Oh, screw kindergarten lessons,
I only share what I want.
Always ghosts here.
Sleep, rest, relax, lie down.
You can't wake me now, spirits,
this is my afternoon.
I can blow you off, your voices
fuck with me like
he
he used to try. Smelled like soap
in public bathrooms.
But you, now, you're clean.
Like Windex or linoleum
We've had all of this before, all that we wanted --
candles, condoms, roses, wrenches.
Maybe you should drop her title
Drop the capital letter, the x
Burn the fragments but don't bother to trash them.
Let them lie.
If you need to remember, keep.

Pain. I need it. My muscles
hadn't done that enough.
My throat stretched to accept you,
to hear myself talk to you.
I sang with her, you let me, and
we all belted the lyrics.
For once I can wait for you. I can accept sexlessness.
So can I
(Conversations.)

Abstract thoughts I am allowed to have on my bed, my house, my pen. Catnaps and blanket bindings, oh, I missed them, like summer and stretch marks. All is all is enough, like the radio tried to say as it cracked and fizzled out.

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