Blockage

It’s not Hanah,

it’s never been Hanah,

please stop

calling/texting this number.

.

Block

Block

Block.

.

A chain of calls,

a chain of blockages.

I started out with nothing

and then a select few

I wanted to

unchain myself to,

and then,

the Hanah-wanters came

and I began to block

total strangers.

.

The texting of the

soon-to-be-blocked strangers

never reaches

my other device.

The texting of those

I knew intimately

gets through

to plague me.

.

For those special few

who I blocked

personally

if by doing so

I tried to

remove the chain from them

to me,

I only succeeded

in rotting it.

(The # is still there

languishing

in my phone)

.

Each city has

a few chains;

some are relics,

and some are fads,

but they are all

there,

encircling me in familiar fogs

whether I want

them to be

or not.

.

Submerged in a fog

I am forced,

unwanted,

to remember

when people thought

I was their Hanah

and why I had

to block them.

.

I’m not Hanah.

I’m not your Hanah.

Leave.

I drop the call.

I abandon the text.

I think of other things.

Is it time

to change my number?

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