Like It Never Was

by Faith Gardner

Over the years, I’ve learned the art of how to sever ties. Call it a knife-sharp gift.

a few flirtations with different diagnoses.

I fantasize about making a beeline into a neighbor’s yard to duck behind a rainbow PRACTICE RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS yard sign, pulling my tights down and crouching to take a shit like a dog.

It’s funny, that word. Break. That’s what I need, a break. A break from my own brain, before it breaks me.

When they bring back lobotomies, I’ll be first in line.

think I might be bedromantic. I think I might be in love with my bed.

RUMORED MURDERER PENS OUTLANDISH ‘MEMOIR’ CALLED ‘SO WHAT IF I KILLED HIM.’