under my therapist’s guidance,
I sit down and talk to my inner predator,
learn where all the trouble started.

now, now, listen to the guilt, it’s talking.

 I’ve always been drawn to sentences:

spent sunrise picking at covered clots;
veins growing lush with unsheltered heart,
profuse & spilling drops that
take years of self harm but
eventually
amount to
(fingers crossed)
one very
disconsolate
flood.

the salve is in the drowning.

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