I Wanted To Give You Everything

They said don’t dwell on could-have-beens, the teachers in schools that nuns owned, but every regret’s an unexplored avenue, a mistake that aches for conclusion.

When he was dead, I was it. Our shirts were sophomore hand holding, and I licked behind each tooth, more thoroughly than you thought, and I told your son I would save him.

Now I watch the handle of your toothbrush bright in the low light of the torch whose batteries are dying but as we’re denying the world’s ending we use each resource until its wrapper’s utterly empty, until it’s leaking acid.

Soon we won’t wake up and won’t know it, and what’s the matter with that? Every false start will disappear like an exposed negative, shrivel like the magnetic tape in a VHS set to fire.

You, my security blanket, get picked up by people you call husband. I’m vilified like no replacement ever beat out the original. But I’ve seen Crocodile Dundee and I’ve watched Gilmore Girls. I’ve wasted time. I’m playing a long game.

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Was It Everything You Hoped?

Jack says there’s not a day for what he does, what he is, but there might be someday and he hopes he lives up to the title, and the title him. But not everything’s a perfect fit, and in some shops the labels don’t correspond to the nationally recognised measurements at all. And sometimes you can know too much but praying doesn’t undo anything and wishes are fallacies spawned by books then movies and positive action can be carried out with zero good intentions and I used to like Angelina Jolie, I think, once.

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