we sit across from each other
and practice telling the truth.
"fuck. ask me again."
"concentrate."
"I'm trying."
they taught you what you couldn't say
before fingerpaints, shoelace tying
my mouth formed pretty stories on its own
“why were you crying?”
“no reason.
“shit.”
you punch lockers when you’re frustrated
I sing to myself
tell people it’s the lullaby my mother sang
“where’s your mother?”
“she died when I was-”
“liar.”
you only know the truth
because a thief thinks everyone steals
as hard as I’ve worked to have no tells
“what does your father do for a living?”
“he. is a…”
“why are you hesitating?”
I intercept teacher’s notes,
you hide bruises,
we’ve got so many games
“are you okay?”
“are you?”
“I asked you first.”
“I asked you second.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m fine.”
we slink home
congratulate ourselves
the progress made
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