I still breathe
I would read and sometimes forget to eat
My mother was always worried.
She believed some day I would forget
and turn into scattered letters and commas
among the pages of a book
She feared she would never be able to put me back together.
I bite my knuckles, wanting to see the red teethmarks
I've pronounced them my own totem
My parents would always spill words on
top of each other
and afterwards wonder why they were never able to understand
what the other one meant
(I think that's why I've always wanted
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