When I woke up you were still here,
called yourself a considerate thief,
‘it’s best to know who’s looking after your goods’.
I misheard you at first,
you didn’t just look after my good I said,
you’ve taken it. It’s not mine anymore.
I taught myself this for years,
stories of ‘they deserved it’ pulsed round my body.
I felt like a cavern with how much it echoed.
I was taught I was a cavern,
once a crime scene, always a crime scene,
I was broken. I am broken. I will always be broken.
-Alex W. (working title, first draft of a WiP)