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Mar 2022
I don’t even see.
They’re just words on a screen.
She wrote them, no seatbelt fastened.

Gray eyes and all
I love myself,
and my dark passenger.

She’s starting to
arrive at that destination
We never planned a trip for.  

I hope she’s not waiting at the gate.
The way I waited for you,
as you waited for me in that very room.

The words glaring and I see your face.
Touching you touching her touching me touching her.

If I met her mother would she
fatten me up respectfully? Leave it open for spring to come home?

How do I explain
the way you shut my closet door?
The one I was born and raised behind.

I being the poet,
You being the poem.
Amor Fatí, forever and ever, Amen.

Will she drown in
an ocean she wears to class everyday?
Will she still come over for dinner?

Maybe I stay silent.
“She’s not here and that’s okay.”
They’re right.

If you never ask you never know.
They never know unless you speak.
It’s just fire in an uncorked bottle.

Without jet fuel, I burn out eventually.
Don’t lift a finger,
I’ll let my body embrace the atmosphere.

Free falling.
Crash landing.
Into no one’s arms but my own.
Devon Lane
Written by
Devon Lane  23/F/Philadelphia
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