I do not want to be
a woman who believes
there’s a reason for the tears
that fall continually.
I do not want to be
a woman so in need
that life a chore untenable
and love a means to grieve.
I do not want to be
a woman with a memory
that overtakes my comfort zone
and leads me into feel.
And I do not, do not, want to be
in that place of feel
where no roof exists to canopy
and keep confined the agony
and turmoil of my being.
I do not want to “be”
but all I want has never been
and so, and so, believe me, please,
to want or not the same, you see?
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