she.

a tiny bit of belly on her post-eating disorder body
« I love the way you are, the way your mind works,
love the way you look, » he says and smiles
a cascade of words and water around them
and pulls her, bare, into his own bare arms

one by one,
four years of conversations
are sent into the void

spent, expired hours upon studious hours
keeping masochistic thoughts away
the night is young yet, these will permeate her dreamscape
a cup of black coffee every morning before school
and a gin and tonic or a glass of red wine before bed

home for a house
small town for a city
boys for men
undergrad for post
three jobs for a line of credit
on which to build the debt
her peers have held long already
she remakes herself

I sleep most nights, now.

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