Therapy
You have nothing to say
Till you open your mouth.
I hold my life in
You call me out.
Say I have lost me,
Don’t tell me where to find me.
Is that for next time
This poem
Or neither?
The way I write,
The minutiae of me:
A puzzle
You love to puzzle out.
I, your willing specimen
Will feel better,
Will feel worse,
Will grapple
With feelings in me
That were there
Before I was.
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