I guess it’s fine            to say   goodbye       to kick              him                 square   out
of my life         I guess            I’m curious      why   that hurts         more   than     letting him stay
to have            his feet            on the table     his     underwear       hanging          from the bath-
room   knob    I guess   I’m wondering          what kept him here   in the first place          my
chronic(ally)    open door      or          his      guilt    my        patholog(y)ical loneliness    or   
his capricious entertainment I guess   it’s fine         to say    no more              to attempt    to find
            my own            way out of Stockholm         without a map                  to insist         he
leave   me        there    will     he          leave   me   Of course he will              makes for a better
looking story   They ASKED for space I TOLD them I didn’t have feelings for them           I just
wanted             to be                             a BETTER friend       I was CLEAR            Of course he
will      leave     me      alone   he’s good at backing out                                maintaining
            distance                                               I’ll never see him again         except on Instagram
            except when I see       he likes my friend(’s)  Facebook post            I will field others’ af-
fections of him                         it will choke me a little each time                   maybe I will keep  
            telling my storymy sidemy takeon things        whenever it comes             up, like it’s
standard knowledge   because casual rape is standard knowledge    it’s   textbook          it’s
normal                         it’s called dating                            but we weren’t dating   we weren’t
even dating    we were just                   “hanging out”          (I was CLEAR)            I thought
that’s what folks were calling casual             rape                 these days                 I noticed  
how  I never                got to say          yes    because          I was never asked     if I wanted
to      even if I did        indeed want      to      just             not right   then        and   not       like
this:              rattled awake by wriggling fingers        a torrent of lips on my neck drunk on 3am
            in pajamas      in a town            I have never      been to before        in the North  
Country            in late                            September so    yeah     I   guess                my       fault
yeah?  My fault          (I/the alcohol)   didn’t notice      him       gnawing through    my left pec
I stared             at that fist            -sized bruise                in the mirror              for weeks  
it took me         five months                   to send him away         he didn’t see why   he didn’t see
me       like I             (thought he would)/(do)              I’m sorry    I let me                 believe (in)
them:   The Pop Bands.               The Daydreams.                        Love.                People. The Sun
Beaming                    Through               The Thunderhead                Whatever       
comes    of this, it’s
myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultyeahCLEAR?