It was all my space.
I'd left no room for you.
The space is exhausted.
I kept coming back, pushing, wanting.
But mostly pushing.
And, not trying.
I clutched my mess to my chest,
whilst I took cover behind my first born.
He is my lifesaver,
but doubles as a scapegoat.
I can see how people lose people.
How love can be battered.
How shame destroys.
I'm kind of sick over it.
Over me.
And i'm pretty sure you are over it,
over me.
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