cobalt

You are a girl. I did not/ do not want you to interfere.

As if I am the only man that exists.
Keeping you out because I can.

Then I see you weeping on the bed in my mothers room.
I try to pass by quickly so that you cannot see me.
Ashamed. But it is too late, so
I turn away.

I beg your forgiveness.

In a no-forum for personal requests.

During a descent to access identity:

I am in Virginia again. When I was little I would visit almost every year,
but the last time I was here was six years ago.

As if repetition were an explanation -
constantly making metaphors >

I am trying to play with my cousins sixteen years ago, my
uncle Lawrences kids, but they are
much older than me. So it is difficult.
Im possible. Identity in time, continually in flux.