the first impulse

the first impulse is to lie, to say it didn’t mean anything.
the second impulse is to hold it like a small mammal against
your chest, something to be protected, quicksilver heartbeat
and a fine hairsbreadth away from being true. the third impulse
tells you to run, cortisol in your body, your body that you let
be opened too quickly with a scalpel made of air and words.
but the first impulse is always to tell the truth about things
lighter than a feather on a scale, heavier than the blackest
swallowing doubt. then the second impulse is to say it meant
everything, everything that could be imbued with meaning when
the strawberry moon is resting on my shoulder. that makes the
third impulse one of collapse, of imminent sleep and dreams
where you tell me the truth but i don’t want to hear it.
the first impulse is to lie. no, the first impulse is to tell
the truth.
always go with your instinct.

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