i decide to switch gears.

call them “collected stories.’
stop looking at anyone.
stop staring at screens.
south philly is not a pleasant walk.
spend time inside, warm,
insulated and on the yoga mat
listening to Hz tones
and sobbing if the time passes
too slowly. i can’t count
anymore, all i am missing is the floral
crown and you would see me at the
ceremony watching lovers jump
the cliff.

i spend time in the mirror
“collecting stories.”
right before i met you,
i asked for everything.

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