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 Jan 2020 erdaniaputri
nuggz
you get one day to cry
but tomorrow
it’s time to fix your crown
I have no clue what you look like
Or what your voice sounds like
But you care
We’ve both been hurt
But together we can pick up the pieces,
And fix our broken selves

Though I’ve never truly met you,
Seen your face,
Heard your voice,
Felt your touch,
I feel better knowing you’re there
clutching my crumbling holy relic,
that trace of her final kiss
still rippling across addicted lips,
rise to find shelter,
move it safe from noise and smoke

stumbling through shadows,
like uneven, forgotten lumber
patching gut shot with used bandages
the faded, drunken hymns of heart flung sadness
hang along Cahuenga Avenue, old and overplayed
wilted spider silk across a concrete violin

each parking meter my next crutch,
arguing with stoic streetlights,
giving their cold flicker that same
blood stained sermon,
self same pity, worn and overused

from edge of a coin I’ll scratch out her name,
from a nightman’s club the darkness can fall,
from the corner of my eye she’ll melt away,
from the skin of my teeth I’ll feel the dawn crack
and learn, again,
to crawl

— The End —