She stands in the doorway, leant against the door frameLeft shoulder against the wood.One of her legs crossed over the otherArms crossed across her chest"So I assume you'll have children one day"
She awaits my response.
Her words are like a loaded like a 44 magnum against my templeAnd they demand I wake the dead.But I refuse to dig up any corpses today.There are headstones in my memoryAnd freshly turned soil.Epitaphs that read"Something I tried to forget"
I removed every trace of you from my bedroom.Swept under the rugKept flat between pages of booksThere are bags under my bed overflowing with incredibly large mistakes.There are skeletons in my closet, doors held shut inhibiting their escape.Skeletons i have worked so hard to hide.I'm sure if I open up, and show you all of my cracked ribs and fractured vertebraeMy sprained wrists and clean breaksYou'll take one look at my X-rayAnd say something a long the lines of"Well you were in no position to have a child anyway"
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