you could run, you know.
you could turn around and look them all in the eye and walk away
faster and faster and faster
and leave all of your old pieces behind. you could run like an army
of tiny, intricately woven glass birds
and ocean-eyed tarantulas were at your cracked and bloody heels,
but you won’t.
i’ve known you for a thousand late night conversations
and a thousand times as many lies
and you will never stand up and fight.
you aren’t worth fighting for.