devotion
what could I possibly be devoted to?
Limerence?
Hurt?
Mid sex?
Is disappointment a drug?
Is feeling insignificant worth its weight in tissues?
What am I devoted to?
A potential, a false promise, a mistake that rings in my ears like an alarm to wake up, too many alarms sounding to complete the original thought. I don’t remember my dream.
Am I tearing the truth out of their eyes or am I drowni…
