I was his endless supply of honey lemon cough drops.
I was particles of sand that molded and smushed around size 10 feet.
I was the heavy duty flashlight he wedged between the mattress and the box springs.
I was the ripe avocado softening on the jalapeño toast.
I was a kitchen appliance warranty, sealed in clear plastic, waiting. In the junk drawer reservoir.
I became broken styrofoam.
I became a dog unwillingly shaved for the August heat. Shamefully scampering on a New York sidewalk.
Currently, I am a woman sitting awkwardly on a mauve couch after purchasing a deal of a pink sofa, online.
I intend to be… In the future, I will be…
I’ll be me.