I Hope It’s a Better Day in Washington

 

This morning I told myself I could have a rock for a heart, and I practiced taking out my real heart and
putting a rock in its place. I told myself not to worry, no one would be able to tell the difference. I
distrusted my real heart and believed that it would try to creep back in. I held it far away. I rubbed the
place when my rock lived. I said this is just fine, see that doesn’t hurt at all, I don’t miss that old thing
anyway. And then I cried and cried and cried.

 

 

 

I Will

 

I will not make stop-motion animation videos of Jello spelling out your initials plus mine. I will not copy
and paste all your old messages into a new message to prove you once felt differently. I will not slowly
break my feet through impossible dance moves in protest to your departure. I will not have anything
nice to say so I will have nothing to say at all. I will not worry when I find things I didn’t buy I will just
keep them in a place as easy to avoid as it is to remember. I will not bother changing the pillowcase on
that side of the bed. I will not always wash my dishes when I am done with them. I will not fill my
pockets with stones and wade into the river. I will not fill my pockets with stones and wade into the
river. I will not fill my pockets with stones and wade into the river. I will not cry myself to sleep on
weekdays. I will not remember that I have taken prescription medication before the second shot. I will
not call after seven weeks and three days just to see how you’re doing. I will not have anything bad to
say so I’ll have nothing to say at all.

 

 

 

 

 

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