Magpie 137

when we were, as we are, we were not.  i didn’t see anything besides the car and the exhaust and the escape i might have.  she hated my anyhow, and it was useless for me to stay.  i fell asleep surrounded by photos and apologies.

years later i found out she knew about that day

and did nothing

years later when they told me she knew

she had no emotion

last night i told you of how no one is pure black or white.  i have seen her shades of gray but she has never wanted to see my capability for white.

“you are a good person” (i’ve dreamt her saying) “i am so proud of who you’ve become” (i’ve imagined her telling me)

i remember that loss, it is visceral and a blunt object.  but it is, and i am not who she said i was.

the blessing i got that day in nineteen eighty nine is this:  i awoke, i breathed.  the car was stopped, my heart had not.  a thousand regrets and a sunny day yet it was november, twenty three years ago that i tried to take my own life.

“i think that i do deserve love” (an eruption of truth, september twentieth, this year, from my own mouth)

right now, this day, today, i shoot.  i am here, among the living.

(i am happy on this day)

(me, then)


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