i have to keep reminding myself that she cant be tied down to anything. all crowbar spine, my hands are slick with the memory of forgetting and i still long for it; let it take up space in the back of my throat during every family gathering with all the people that have no idea. have less of an idea than me, her home; harbouring a fugitive from myself. its not like we ever had it easy and i never thought we would. being something complicated, she spits at my heels and i clip her wings when shes sleeping in the hopes she'll have to crawl away instead of getting to hover over the ruins, like she had no part in our destruction. in mine. call it questionable, call it toxic, call it fluid, call it anything for certain and ill die happy.
