There's this dog that I have and she'd rather have nothing to do with me. I wonder if she senses that I can't keep her safe, that I killed her sister, that if the power went out, I'd lose her and let her get thrown down the trash chute.

I wonder if she thinks I love Nadia more, and I wonder if she feels my ambivalence to the world, if she knows I've nearly given up hope, if the difference between her and Nadia was growing up with a mom who had ideas.

And I've been cleaning up my Gramma's apartment. I feel proud that my mother doesn't have to do it, I feel better about not being able to say goodbye. My mom says she can't do it, and I know how she feels. I remember the weight of her shoes by the door, the cloud of her writing on the 2003 calendar gracing the kitchen in 2011, the screaming photos on the wall, the cup near the sink.

Losing a mother is the most gut-wrenching pain that I can imagine, or rather, that I have been through.

I ache thinking about how my own mother's apartment will be post-mortem.

The mania I'll feel if anyone touches anything. The hysteria I'll embrace at every momento of her. A pink teacup that Karma broke. The electric blanket that she couldn't live without. The adorable Raggedy Ann on the shelf.

And I wonder if I'll ever love another as I love her.
_______________________

So this is really love?
Is that what you mean?
I want to knock on your door and make you kiss me.
I want to never talk to you again.
I love you. I hate you.

And you've ruined the sound of the guitar.
Every chord smiles like you, smells of your fingers.
Locks me in the basement,
with you.
Where I first heard,
and where we made love,
on your secondhand couch.
Did another girl hear you there?
Am I just another?

I can't remember the last time awe was mine.
And I still taste it in my teeth, despite.

Okay, so I get it that you don't want just one.
But, I'm in the running, and don't tell me I'm not.
So treat me as such.
Talk to me.
I'm not leaving.
I just wish you'd stop keeping me sacred,
so it wasn't all black and white.

Let's pretend we're strangers.
At least I can keep you close for your stupid back up plan.
God, I'm desperate.
Why do I ever talk to you?