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Olivia Griffin May 2016
You assume I don’t see you
Lavish with carbonated conviction
Facing the bitter end- that last gulp of cheap beer
First a reflective beat, and then a self-assured expulsion

The king of this grimy land comfortably sat upon a throne of dizzy *****
I pursue the liquid ring on a worn surface
But your dull eyes rest heavy upon my volatile figure
Translucent in the dimly lit dive  

An entire room intoxicated by clear implications
The echo of words inferred; with undertones of stale lager
That has seeped into the paint chipped walls where your vibrations are deflected
Do you think you’re hiding?  

Your glance suggests that these delicate palms haven’t crushed
One too many aluminum cans
And the cinnamon eyes you so dream of
Have not had the pleasure to bear witness
To each treacherous move you think you make in secret

— The End —