i walked me to a corner,
cupping both ears with my palms,
pretending not to know, not to remember, not to hear.
refraining from saying, screaming, raging.
but i cannot not feel.
what do they want from us?
why does she spit in our path?
how do i go on from here?
where can i run, to you?
my hand is still with you, even though it is good as empty.
i have been waiting for you to get off the middle,
so i can leave this corner.
