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You spoke to me with your voice like Mia Farrow’s and your eyes not at all like trampolines. A tar twig bobbed between your lips; you spoke of self-destruction and smoked your commas and semi-colons. You asked me questions with the least amount of answers and the most amount of space, like a widow’s home adorned in compromise. The six o’clock sun sprawled through. You said I reminded you of how we’re always treating people like fractions, simplifying where we should be unfurling equations. I saw the dawn illuminate your hiccups and your hesitations. I took a kiss; I thought there’s nothing more fleeting than moments like this, but at least you can’t run quickly with a heart so full.
0
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
1968
You spoke to me with your voice like Mia Farrow’s and your eyes not at all like trampolines. A tar twig bobbed between your lips; you spoke of self-destruction and smoked your commas and semi-colons. You asked me questions with the least amount of answers and the most amount of space, like a widow’s home adorned in compromise. The six o’clock sun sprawled through. You said I reminded you of how we’re always treating people like fractions, simplifying where we should be unfurling equations. I saw the dawn illuminate your hiccups and your hesitations. I took a kiss; I thought there’s nothing more fleeting than moments like this, but at least you can’t run quickly with a heart so full.
rachel-goad
Written by
American
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
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