Emotional Doors
We're bending,
But not breaking.
Is this good?
I've grown tired of dialing,
Ashamed your phone number
Has become a memorized muscle movement--
A seven-numbered cod
Printed over my eyes
That spells out "home."
I am trapped.
Trust is only a phase;
A tiny brush stroke on the canvas of my life
And more than I am afraid
Of causing you harm,
I am afraid of harming myself.
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