Fire Ants
I remember trembling
the first time I held your hand
and stuttering, searching for words
when I first called you at home.
Most of all, I remember
walking past you
with that feeling in my gut,
but not of butterflies, more like
a thousand red fire ants
relentlessly scurrying and marching,
consuming me from inside.
And dear, those fire ants
have scarred me forever.
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