memory flood

4:30 AM amidst fear of sleep, fear of sharp sun awakening to poisonous words leaking into my mind on a broken record, alone in my independence throne.

time cracks my head into a rolling film…

standing in her dad’s kitchen, deciding whether to make brownies for breakfast, and which movie to see. back then i hadn’t stayed up past four and I didn’t share drinks.

putting the girls down for bed. singing in spanish, arabic, and french, painting nails as the dog barked, smell of old guitars. I haven’t seen them for a year which will grow into five, then ten …

first time in the waterpark, wood chips and pencil boxes, when I dreamed of college, which has shattered as easily as thin glass.

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