I remove a cig from my pack on the table, find my keys in her purse. Sitting on a curb outside as she sleeps upstairs I admire the darkness before making a flame. A car comes up the block, I sit still, hide the heater behind my haunches. Headlights make night into day. I’m nothing but a shadow.
And I need all the reasons I can find not to hate myself. But it’s hard. Even the idea makes me shiver. Because I see loving myself like looking down on others. Riding around on a high horse. And I never want to think I’m better then the people I see on the street. The ones who have it rough. The ones who don’t fit in. The ones I see my own face in.
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