What is it like to only have one set of memories?
One point of view rising clearly above the rest?
I do not know the words for any of this
other than heartbreak, repeat
The years pass and little changes
The same abrasions, bruises bloom
The same blood bleeds anew,
watering the same soil
iron-rich but depleted
What’s another word for silent treatment?
What would Jesus think of you?
How many times will you endure this and call it love?