covered in hot water & umbrage,
broken
like the bed I used to make it
in.


swathed in cheap sheets, tortured
with absent flowers, cold feet,
wax all over the unfinished table,
heavy like my tongue
flush with
little darted lullabies,
voice hushed and brusque
like low tide,
like you,

your sudden
retreat.

“April”

 

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