Tell me anything about freedom. How does it taste? Is it sweet then sour or sour then sweet? Like the candy in my imagined child’s lunch bag we got from Target. What if tastes metallic—salty? Aged red wine? a rustic machine. Have you ever sucked on a penny? More importantly—where does it end? My imagined child went to school today and met a gun for the first time. Did they think of fight or flight? Was there an American flag anywhere in the hallway? Tell me anything your rage? My imagined child in the backseat. We are driving home safely. My other imagined child turned 2 today. I wonder if freedom can be infringed. It was all becoming real.

Tonight, I’m going to dance. My dancing heels don’t seem to stand a chance. I flip my hair, take my shoes off, I worry the dark blue concrete floor will be rough. Yet I feel no pain, and lose myself in the dance.

Do you know what it feels like to be afraid? Do not think too much. Wanting loves touch; With my fathers gleaming eyes, I prayed. Then I wake up and count the sins I made. I’m thinking too much…”brain, please, hush!” Sometimes it is best to just focus on the gold rush. But I know better. Is this poetry or a dead letter?

It was not my intention. To you it might have seemed deliberate, but I have never been deliberate. I was not in my right state of mind if I really did intend to hurt you in the way that I did. I love you, why would I do that to you? I just could not help my self when he raised his voice. Every decibel he uttered seemed like an affront not to me or the situation, but to you. I love you so much to have anyone be disrespectful to you. I reacted without thinking and that’s what made my actions wrong. So that’s why I have to go. I did not intend to hurt you but I did. You have never talked to me like that and I never expected it. But you sound hurt and if my staying night hurt you more then I won’t say another word. Please give me a moment to gather myself before I go. All I ask is do not watch me go when I leave.