These regurgitated details
and morning breath dreams
demand
espresso bait
to encourage my brain not to linger
as it is more controlled here
and nobody cries in Vera Wang linens
 
For all the battles I ever lost,
I keep clutching for comfort in excessive thread counts
wishing for the capacity
to bleach out internal stains
and bid the sunshine to dry me out
so I can go about this day
gardening
for amnesia
 
For 2 years and 6 months
I have planted trauma in manure
and I have picked through all the damned weeds
endlessly waiting for lessons to sprout
that thunderous voice always finds me,

"What does it matter? She is nothing but a black girl from Georgia"

The line that became the "once upon a time"
to my macabre
I tried so hard to save her
If I could power wash these stepping stones
I could mute out the regret and shortcomings
...ephemeral distractions...

Fumbling with packets of seeds-
so many analytical duds
because I can't seem to pin point
what germinated a four year friendship
into the hybrid of a designated driver
and
a rapist
 
I have to keep making something out of all the nothings
it is all I have left to do
before I remember
how much I hate the word "anniversary"
because I don't know another informative stake
to place in the day pot
that marks half of my death
 
Move forth
with indolent patterns
because I know, today, it will rain ordure
and there is only a 2 percent chance that bees
will pollinate my memory with glitter
and
bloom
me
biennial