“a brush of cold shoulders
in mutual feign
of the cool indifference
of a casual cruelty
called loving in vain”
- d.c.
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“a carton of cream
for a mere shot of coffee
i pour
and pour
and pour
until overflow
spills into saucer
and the color of his eyes
no longer twirls
in my cup”
- d.c.
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“i was a little black dress
in a boozy bar
and he was one tall glass of water
i ached to put
my lips to.”
- d.c.
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“two poker faces
whose cards together
make a winning hand
fold
none the wiser
and sulk through
casino smoke and jingle
to retire
to separate beds
in separate lives
where in dream
they dream of the other
and the risk of the wager
is no matter”
- d.c.
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“I am keenly aware
that my feelings
do not make a dent in his life,
but deep down,
in a place of twisted compassion,
I know
I wouldn’t really want them to.
So I’ll watch out the car window
with a rubber neck
as someone
who looks an awful lot like me
gets absolutely totaled;
the wailing sirens
and flashing lights
performative afterthoughts
of warning.”
- d.c.
83 notes
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“I can make peace
(I think)
with the way things are
and might always be
and I will try not to want more
(of you)”
- d.c.
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“…and for a second there
these silly little delusions
looked to me like
big subtle breakthroughs of truth.”
- d.c.
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Our first gaze held such history.
It was the single most convincing feeling
that we had been great lovers in a previous life.
Or that we currently existed as such
within a parallel dimension unknown to us.
The way he couldn’t tear his sight away from me.
The way he wouldn’t even if he had been able to.
His piercing, paperweight eyes,
beneath the weight of which
I was willingly pinned.
My core a phoenix
bursting into flames.
d.c.
94 notes
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