In high school you deserted me

in the passenger seat of the stick shift Ford Ranger.

An empty lunch box

and unbraided hair.

You took the bathroom scale away

but just down the hall, to your room.

You left me

crying

and you left me

a thousand times

emotionally

at the dinner table,

in the car,

on the sidewalk outside the high school gymnasium.

My stomach hurts,

and it’s 12:31am.

And this is exactly what it feels like

in my body

to need you.

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