I ask myself to batch it all up and let go float the raft down the river and watch it wash up later downwind stop pretending this doesn’t exist and face the truth when will I see that it was part of my skin all the wounds all the lines all the ugly spots— I chose to ignore I try, I do— but, however I parse it out I lose in the end the meaning— of why I tried again, at all.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Hamza NOUASRIA on Unsplash
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