© Copyright 2026 - Peter PHIR! Tuesday, seven-something, light still thin, I felt it come before I let it in Hands on the radiator, palms pressed flat, Trying to locate the body that I had. Mum used to say: "name a thing and it goes quiet." I named it. Gave it a Tuesday and a time. Gave it the colour of the tiles in the bathroom, The exact weight of a winter coat on the line. Nothing left it. Remained. Precise as a debt. So I said: 'no.' Clear. Deliberate. Said it to the mirror. Said it to the sink. Said it to the part of me that listed you Every time I tried to stop and think. "No" is just a door. Walked through it. Found you on the other side. I don't lust for you Lust for you Every sentence holds the thing I'm trying to undo. I take it back Take it back And taking back is touching it, And touching feeds the lack. T of T of x is x. Return. I said your name to let it go. It learned. Marlon told me once, before he passed, the things you fight in daylight come back at half past. He wasn't talking lust. Might've been. We didn't name what we meant then. I carry that with him - this too, This ordinary animal arriving uninvited, Not dressed for it, Not sorry, Not new. I went cold water. Went to work. Went the long way home past everyone I know. You never moved. Stood in the kitchen of my thinking Like you'd always known the door. I don't lust for you Lust for you Every sentence holds the thing I'm trying to undo. I take it back Take it back And taking back is touching it, And touching feeds the lack. T of T of x is x. Return. I said your name to let it go. It learned. Hear me: I catalogued every exit. Counted them. Logged the routes. Renamed the feeling 'friction,' named it 'static,' Named it 'doubt.' Friction. Still warm. Static. Still yours. Doubt Doubt requires something to doubt. Suppression is its own room. You furnish it with the thing suppressed. I built four walls of 'not you' And lay down in them and rested. I rested *in not you. In not you. Which is a form of you. Which is This is where Marlon would've laughed. This is where my mother would've said: You're making it worse. She'd be right. She was always right about the things I made worse By trying to make better. I don't lust for you Lust for you Every sentence holds the thing I'm trying to undo. I take it back Take it back And taking back is touching it, And touching feeds the lack. T of T of x is x. Return. I said your name to let it go It lea- learned. © Copyright 2026 - Peter PHIR!
