insecurity

  • not mine

    There it is, that little voice I haven’t missed. She seeps in uninvited, like rain through a cracked window.You’re not enough. I fold the feelings back up again,return them to the drawer labeledthings not mineI didn’t want them anyway.You’ve crossed no boundaries,but the Savage in me trespasses. She paces the roomcounting what you give away…

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