Poetry

An Open Letter to a Psychopath

Manipulative and self-obsessed

All I want to talk about is you

dear sir there’s something too true

i can’t quite put to words

brightest reds and deepest blues

they all come back for thirds

you seem to look right through me

lost in magic on the other side

apathetic to the point of poetry

delicate dance upon the blade of a knife

dance, dance out of those shadows,

that prison, that church, your mind

dance, dance into the twilight, and tell me that you’re mine

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Poetry

The Other Side

the other side of the bed

is where i keep my heart and my dreams

and my bag and my keys

when you’re gone

 

my heart on my sleeve

of the sweater i wore earlier

lay there as well

feeble cableknit weight

attempts to occupy the void

 

i dream of sprawling

using the space

but i stay on my side

leave room for phantom heartache

 

my thread count matched by memories

counting sheep

counting excuses

waiting

 

forget a companion

any other would find too hot, too near, too far

an unsuitable cotton environment

i miss you,

down to my linens

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