What do you do
when you’re two different people?
When you’re sometimes
one thing
and other times
something else?

Romance turns my veins into fire,
the passion roiling up,
transforming my skin
into oil slicks of lust

for all-wrong
with all-wrong

Ten minutes later,
I pretend to know

what an adult does,
what a mother does,
what a teacher does,
what a wife does.

I beg for American Dreams
and brand new dishwashers
and college funds
and lake trips
surrounded by family
built on years and work and trying.

Two people
raging beneath my skin,
vibrating through my bones,
and I don’t know
which I like better

one makes me feel
and the other makes me safe.


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