You called to skip your rocks

Across my glossy pond again

Life is never enough for you

Were you the child at the park with chubby fingers bursting bubbles?


I hang up and walk around the corner

Into a conversation between pizza and laundry

Where am I? I haven’t moved in seven years,

But still the question.


I’ve learned to love the breaking

Like turning off the water

So the pot boils faster

And we have frog soup for dinner again.


But what do I know?

The girl who let you touch her blind for three years,

but after six months your fingers couldn’t remember her ribcage

My invisible heart.


And still it doesn’t matter

Where you are because

I am always finding myself

Always in relation to you


A north star, a north pole

Recalling me from where I am going and repelling me from where I came

Without you, I’d float to space

And burn among the stars.

Pizzalaundrypizzalaundry: survival thoughts.
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