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homeless abortion

there is no longer a love for me to
sit and cry about in the backseat of a chevy impala
on a sunday night.

nothing for me to bleed over, for me to
sell my soul out with a kiss,
get nothing in return but flickering flames
behind my eyelids as i try to sleep.

the biggest journey i’ve ever made was from
womb to reality; i didn’t ask for the trip.
after fifteen seconds of life, my hands clawed at
my mother’s face, begging her to let me in.

it’s minuscule, yet i’m
holding onto
this life with you
like i actually wanted it to begin with.




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