I thought I owed you,

‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’

‘Where are you going dressed like that?’

‘Who is he?’

‘When are you coming over?’

‘Can I buy you a drink?’

‘Will you take minutes?’

‘Could you listen to them?’

‘When will you have kids?’

‘Why aren’t you married?’

I truly thought I owed you,

So, I walked while looking over my shoulder,

Kept the memory of your hands, body on me, hidden,

a gift to the demons that plague me.

I thought I owed you,

ANSWERS.