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It's vicious.
He spits honey-coated excuses
Just as I misplace forgiveness
Sliding under him,
Rising over me
As snowflakes fall outside this Brooklyn brownstone of mistakes.

But these pebbled streets
and long-forgotten sidewalks,
crossed daily by hundreds
...they soften everything.

It's beautiful and tragic
as I remember nothing and everything
If only for some time,
if only in this place.

This crack in the sidewalk, his hand in mine
That tree with the branch that hangs too low...
his eyes
a smile
true love.

This is where I come to forget.
"Can I offer you a drink sir?"
He didn't flinch,
Reacting with such demur.
He resembled grief to the last inch.
Maybe he didn't hear me.
"Sir? In need of a whiskey perhaps?"
Maybe it needn't be,
But it seemed as if he was ought to collapse.
Cigarette slipped between his teeth.
Leaking wounds along his hands.
I soon noticed the blade beneath.
I knew then that he is one who understands.
His head stayed down,
Hidden behind a defence of stubble.
Long last, he came around.
"Make it a double."
 Jan 2015 Kate Irons
Simon Obirek
the sound of a baby crying and
a mother sulking.

the sound of a car screeching and
bones breaking.

the sound of moans of delight and
a scream of pain in the night.

boring how life always uses
the same soundtrack.
 Jan 2015 Kate Irons
Rae Slager
He found salvation
and then proceeded
to pull its trigger
The burn
cuts
so deep
right to the bone.

I don't want it to stop.
 Jan 2015 Kate Irons
Edward Coles
You tell me to get a grip
but I have got nothing
to hold on to.
C
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