I Didn't, I Won't, I'm Done

I did not see the ghost at the séance even though I told folks it spoke to me about windshields.
          Even though I described the way glass shattered into sprigs on the blacktop.
          What I saw and what I said occurred on separate planes of the reality spectrum.
          Sorta spacey like speaking in tongues.

I did not eat the turkey sandwich he left for me on the counter.

I did not get my nipple pierced and experience the mysterious nipple orgasm.

I did not ascend to the top of the Eiffel Tower with the clumps of other
          tourists who went up in the elevator to snap a selfie
          or climbed the stairs for physical fitness.

I did not tell him to stop taking the steroids which made his thighs quiver
          and his pupils dilate in perpetual rage.

Nor did I tell him maybe I loved him so much because he was unlovable
          and unworthy of my love which led me to use the word "love"
          as a mask for the adrenaline I sought as a reward.

I did not take the free, all-expenses paid trip to Thailand offered by the international hotel chain
          because "no strings attached" is the worst thing you can promise
          a recovering serial monogamist. No strings attached is
          what she wanted and time turns strings into years.
          Rapunzel never stopped spinning gold thread pandemic
          little metal strings poked from between her legs. IUD.

I did not perceive the contempt underlying the emails covered in Bible verses.

I did not see how you wanted to help me become somebody else.
          A Better Person.
          A Patriot.
          A panti-liner.

You ask me why I can't just relax and be like the others, mothers, brothers.
          The crease in my forehead fists. My sad face
          sparks across the unswept hardwood.
          It is the end rhyme between fine and
supine which sticks in my throat.

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