running backwards
I said I was sorry
but you left me in a puff of smoke
not even saying goodbye
to my punk ass
later on the sun & magnifying glass
burned fifty laser-like holes
up & down my arm
[thinking it was a portal to my soul]
connecting the dots with a bic pen
until it ran out of ink
it wasn’t the first time
I swore to myself
I’m done running backwards
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
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