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Dec 2016
november
his words came out like a lemming of
forceful regrets
and my phrases were hell bent on the
destruction of themselves

                     *it's decemeber now

                     you've only been gone for a month
                     and i can move furniture around as
                     much as i'd like, and you'd still
                     bounce off the cushions

if the Everything of cigarette smoke
and cheap cologne speak
as loudly as temptation
as brightly as your abdomen, stretched
like the bonds of linen across rooftops

                     that shade these lonely streets
                     then i will seek the promises you
                     left behind
                     and a late night motel
                     *
to bore me in your absence
(he promised me a night in a motel)
Written by
Macey Boelk
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