Was it after I taught myself to end each sentence in a question mark
And convinced myself to forget what I wish I had known was real?
When doubt sank through my mind, a heavy stone
With rough edges that screamed and ripped at my insides until all I became
Was a pile of crudely torn flesh and fantasy
I watch my fingers sift through the mess
Struggling to string it back together
Which piece goes where?
Something grabs at my hands, forcing them away
And I realize
Maybe I stopped caring when I learned it wouldn’t help.


I left the mess alone.