If there’s one thing we learned from our parents, it’s how to use old promises like weapons. Forgot to notice how bodies fall into patterns, how we just reflex our ways through each other’s hard lessons. That’s how you ended up lying down on my bed smelling like winter, our lives in intermission. I know you can’t forgive; I just give in. I can’t find the strength not to make my body bend. You just keep on saying those words and shaking your head when I ask if you’re sure. I play the punk: ‘if you’re not now, you never were’. I see our past like so much scorched earth.