taking the long way home to tell me you’re tired of us I am tired of scouring the bottom of my feet looking for reasons to look back leaving pieces of myself everywhere I go a stream of everything I consider, slipping out of my heels, bouncing off the concrete and back into my mouth, but losing bits along the way bits I’ve scavenged for bits I’ve fought for bits of you that you’ve been looking for I’m tracking things in the house now you’re upset, because I never take my shoes off I never turn my mind off I’m upset because you don’t call me by name as if I blend in with the books and the towel rack you own every bit of me you wish to see and I keep dragging the other bits in the ones of me that cared for someone else the ones of me that never cared for myself they’re all here in the other room down the hall there’s a password knock three times and they’ll ask which way I fall the answer is forwards always stumbling into uncomfortability into the heavy brown that weighs on me every time you catch me with your eyes and string me up in the rafters then glance elsewhere fleeting suspension as I hover over the ground and dropping me to the floor, breaking the smaller bits the bits that aren’t replaceable you say you are tired of us, but truly you are tired of who I made myself be you’ve explored all my caverns all my interesting all my depraved and you’d like to trade me in for a smoother, seamless smile one that won’t care for unwanted bits one that will ignore your missteps and gather your loose ends behind you one that will fit ✱✱✱
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