I have a violence inside me. You may not have guessed it bt the way I read Maya Angelou in the corner but it’s there, I do. On my run now. Thinking what if I turned it into THE run. I don’t need to be here. But she’s here… I’m parting ways now. NO more time or space for an influx of change. Suppose I loved you. Suppose I should. I know I could. Bak into my run. The sun sets into shoulders and I sprint the last 300 feet until I can no longer write inside this diary.

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