Packing Freshmen Year
The year I turned 19,
I said goodbye to no one.
When I forced my dirty clothes into cardboard boxes
that reached my waist,
I tried to lock up
each interaction and forget
who had touched me on my futon.
I closed my eyes and tried to
step back, into the hollows of earth
where I had walked before so I
did not disturb my surroundings.
I released my fists and
burst into a dandelion seed,
blowing around
past them.
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