sink traps without a catchnthe last grocery bagsnstacked up in a pilena laundry sack;nscratched up for the automatnthe cats figure that you'llnbe gone for a whilennwe could not block the arrowsnthat poisoned your heartnbetrayed from the beginning,nnow too spoiled to trustnwe'd work on an ending,nbut where would we start?ni won't pass my judgementsnfor judges to judge justnhashing out contingentsnwith your ghostnnthe meaning-well, misguided talkingnshit committee gathersnwhen their tragedy ignites a fire:ndormant, weeping, batterednand the pattern is embarrassingnit only makes me saddernnow i finally realize itnand i wish it didn't matter at allnndon't push, don't pullnact, enablernguilt pays off in fullnpay your makerni'll be opposed to every argument,nbe ill with every lieni'm not looking to be a heroni'm not looking for a fightnni'm working out contingents with your ghostnsorting through specifics with your ghostnexplaining my position to your ghost