The Flesh is Weak

From my repressed memories:

 I put Instagram on my little laptop so I could still text him even after my phone was put away at night.

He would have hard nights and it was my job to be there.

I would wake up at 6:30 every morning, and I would waste my mind away on physics and reading and the densities of academia.

I would go for a run after school,

I would eat like a bird,

and I would go to drama club.

I would get home, and he would be waiting with a sadness that we weren't meant to carry.

At 1 in the morning, I would fall asleep by flesh and not by choice.

At 6:30 in the morning, I would wake up to anger, to accusation of abandonment, to an adversary who accused the flesh of acting like flesh.

-Emma Lancaster