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Former Relations

One hand pressed against oak
like a feather
feather, light
The other feels
wall paint and plaster
door knob protruding just right into my belly
My ear is pressing
then warm
I used to feel happy
till I heard you sing
because your voice isn’t pretty
and the words always rhyme
You sing out of spite
and you sing for revenge
Open, door
Let me see what you’ve become
But my feet won’t move
They’re standing still
And I’ll shut the door
seal out your siren squeals

I’ll close the door
Never open it again
But a door’s, a door
It’ll never go away
Closed or not
It will always stay
Closed with a knot
In the stomach—betrayed
Sing, and be free
because you’ve won
You’ve won, my queen

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