It's funny, when I first met you I was sick. All day and night I tossed and turned, my stomach turning itself into knots. I clamped my throat tight and refused to eat, refused to vomit. I should have known it was an omen. Our bodies try to protect us. It's called the gift of fear.
Now I am sick again.
I clamp my throat tight but I vomit anyways.
I wipe you from my mouth, wipe the poison from my lips.
Wipe you from my heart, one slow retch at a time.
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