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A Stickshift

Updated on July 1, 2014

I still ache for you
almost every single day.
Most days
I can control it
by balling my fists
and breathing
in and out
as to let the feeling pass.
But other days
when it's really, really
bad
there's nothing I can do
to stop my brain
from wondering
about the "what ifs"
and the potential
I thought we had.
I can't even drive a
stickshift
without getting sick to my stomach
and my legs shake
just as much as they were
when you tried to teach me.
You were so
skilled
at getting the gears to shift
while I mashed them together
unable to figure out
how any of it worked.
You were the teacher
and I was the student.
And teachers are supposed to help;
Not render the gears useless
after you got bored.
You got my gears going and then
stalled me out.
And the smoke keeps me up at night
unable to breath
or think
or feel okay.
I will never not ache.
I will never not stall out
every time I see you.
I will never be able to drive
a stickshift.

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