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all i want
is for her
to like me

like before
when i was
underfoot

before i
asserted myself
disengaged and
decided to
persue life
instead of
being
consumed
by it.

her decision
to raise me
independent
left me
insecure.

the two can
coexist.
love becomes
something
experienced
as panic.
and panic
is experienced
as trauma and
trauma is
stored away

i didnt have
a bad life
i had a strong
life i
had to think quickly
make new friends
every school year
move
my room every two
years and
go mad missing
everyone it
was not
a bad life
but now that
i am static
independent
and conscious,
i realize that
i hate carpet.
someones been
on it before.
and im not sure
ever sure
it was not me.

i would ask her,
if she thought
i had been in
this apartment before,
but
she can't remember all of the
old addresses
and
she doesnt know
my new one.
neither does he.
but ,
neither do i,
know their's
nor care.