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we are no longer ...i fell in love with you on a tuesday. the autumn air lingered on my tongue and sense of rebirth tingled beneath the surfaces of my eyelids. i was a a breathing model of the solar system i made in grade school, mimicking movements without purpose. i instated thought above soul and head shadowed heart. my eyes were draped in the haze of self-deprecation and a doubt filled my lungs and spilled onto the floor at my feet, winding in rivers that only once more were absolved and recycled by my own central command.
i smiled at you on a wednesday. our eyes were ions of opposite charge, and our electricity was evident. you gave me signals like a road sign; your were clear in your directions but passed so fast i often found myself feeling as though your traffic laws were in fact forgeries.
i wrote my first poem for you on a friday. i aligned syllables and vowels and verfied consonants to splay my soul for my own eyes to see. i sculpted you with words, chiseling away at the ethereal eyes that igni
So She Can Forget That--She knows the French for hummingbird and he can divide fractions in his head,
and none of it means a thing anymore.
She's pictureimperfect and happilyneverafter, and he's playing guardian angel.
She already knows all your secrets, and he's got too many of his own to have
space for any more.
She knows just how to take his heart to pieces, and he could shakeherapart
in the blink of an eye.
She's made a mess of him, and somehow he still can't look away.
She's unfamiliar to herself, but it's ok because she's learnt him off by heart,
stitchbysinglestitch, and he's happier not knowing.
She's clawing at her own skin to find buried silver, while he's happy enough
with not being able to get her off his mind.
She dances with the dark because she just can't tear herself a w a y; he
does it because if he doesn't, he knows he'll lose her to it.
She's slowly slippingthroughhisfingers and part
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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