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here we are again
midnight.

as we count the new day away/
one, two, three
in the morning.


four, five, ***
seven days in a week.

playing on our words.
we're weak.
i'm weak.
so weak.

here we are again.
 Nov 2013 David Flemister
Amelia
It's two in the morning
and I'm lying in bed,
listening to the blues
and smoking.
You light up my phone:
"God, we could've been great."

The guitar weeps
and sings me ballads
of lovers lost.

With each exhale,
I hope to rid my system of you.
Something I wrote last night.
 Oct 2013 David Flemister
Amelia
i love older boys who teach me how to blow
smoke rings in the parking lot
of strip malls.

i love pink clothes and skirts
that hide the lines of my lace
underthings.

i love getting in a car
with someone many inches taller than me
who won't tell me where we're going.

i love cigarettes
and lighters
and their not-so-secret love affair.

i love looking down into the sky
and waiting for gravity to end
so i can fall.

i love playing mind games
with people who are "in love" with me
as sick as it may be.

i love taking teensy pills
that make me feel
tall, tall, tall.

i love being scared
that the manager will find out
that i stole a hundred dollar necklace.

i love all of these things.
but not me.
TW: Drug references.
 Oct 2013 David Flemister
Amelia
Did it make you feel good
to give a girl twelve years your junior
enough ******
to **** her?

Does it get you hard
when you see her
fall back,
susceptible to you?

Did it make you feel like a man
to make her blood
almost as toxic
as you?

How do you fall asleep at night?
TW: Drug use.

— The End —