The small letter

I had recovered pieces of my being, I was learning to say my name without breaking it into branches. It was getting easier for me to lay down under the sun without the wait of eight minutes, I was getting better. 

It was easy for me to deal with my closed throat and I had learned numbers beyond the billion and I could breathe. I knew about sleeping when the brain stumbled to bed and I was evolving against all bets. I was learning. 

I could talk, exist and breath without having any wound from you. I was succeeding in making a life out of death and we were walking different lanes. 

So you had to have the need to talk to me, of putting your numbers in front of my eyes and make me remember. You had to put a definition to the sounds and create calm from the chaos that I was ruling. It was your last play, the one I was thinking about yet wishing to a God of multiple faces for a no and a yes. 

Because let's admit that I was in the middle. You had to be the nine sin, the temptation that had to come when I was thinking less about bodies and more about the acid in my teeth. I was growing in no giving my heart to every broken clock and thinking that there was the possibility of building an empire out of concrete, and that wasn't in your plans. 

It was a promise that was in small letter in every love of mine. For them to build a ghost of their bonds in me, which would be each hidden door and nightmares of the afternoon.

TA.