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Jul 2018
I’m resting my head on the surface of your knees. my face only skims
and my fingers are curled in the coarse denim of your jeans.
my palms sweat effortlessly.
look my prize is in my hands,
but my efforts you foresee.

I’m enshrined but your eyes glaze views ahead, no blinks
blind to the tug on your skin. Numb, you are
so am I.

The shirt pasted to your chest, you nudge. Uncomfortable.
see I’m so helplessly sewn into the frail hem of your pockets
and I’m senseless here I can’t dance.

Then I’m woven into the smoke infused cotton, and it’s so sweet.
it sours the salt dripping from my tears.

you balance with your knuckles and emerge from your seat to stand.
and I find that I melt into the carpet as you trail me behind so violent
I rot down into the lips of the floorboards.
not yours.
3 june 23:12
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