Coddled

by Ama

When we wake up in the dark we are curled, cured.
You said you made sure of it, but we both know you didn’t.
I call out, “ON PURPOSE” but I am never happy when I should be.

To be alive- to be eating ripe fruit.
Truth: Oregon has this fresh air, this moisture as ice on the bridge and everything slides right off.
We make these choices every day- to be happy or sad.

Last night I dreamed I was right and could tell you why.
People do what they want- it’s another way of saying you’re responsible.
Little girl,
I am not your enemy, I am not even cruel. We break our own hearts.
How do I tell you to take what you want? To die trying? If you give up, you didn’t want it- not really, and then you are cruel for not knowing.

It’s our only job to know, to find out.

I live in this sanctuary and everything is sacred.
We both start laced up, like a present, with the past.

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