My Anything

Jimmy ate the world and I understood,
finally,
that you’re not my anything.
Maybe there never was
or could be and you can’t be,
and I get it. But I don’t regret it
that I asked.

Somehow you still carried me
for a year or so,
but I can’t forever be
in the palm of your hand.
I’m leaving,
I’m leaving.
I’m whole.

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