sprout raze i will not be shamed by anything you see here. not by the socks thrown on the floor after being worn, or by the plush and needle felted friends that surround us. you curl up beside me in bed. your wild mane tamed by time. something frightened still squirming in mine. our feet bare but for the dirt of a day too young yet to be named. fingers interlaced. dark hairs sprout out of your knee like aerial roots. you cut an uncooked cube steak into quarters with a serrated blade. "there he goes," you sing, your voice dipping down as low as your larynx will allow. but i'm not the one who's leaving. 250213 what's it to you? who go blather from