ICU

Puffy faced and delirious,
feet smaller, vocal chords
stretched,
pulling the back of my throat
with every step.

You, at the other end of
sticky fingers, stomach flus,
teenage-I-hate-you’s sunk
into the hallways of
houses where we slept and
never lived.

A tomato soup stained
tornado of learned things.

Please don’t laugh

I’m afraid you’ll
choke.

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