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It was already hot like summer in spring, But you looked back and saw that was never the thing, The thing that made you want to hide inside, That made you feel you’d already died. And gone to a heaven where she was waiting, Cigarette in hand, standing, smiling, A porcelain white, blood red mirage, Your fingernails in the leather when she drove too fast. Alone on a platform waiting for that one song, To play in your ears on the Sony Walkman, Waiting, always waiting, always first to be there, Your funny ghost behind you, sweeps back your hair. Stops you from the uncertain act, That thing from which you can’t come back, Don’t destroy yourself on another summers day, My sad one, my lover, my heart, just stay. She sells the bible from the neon cathedral for 3.99, Spending forever pouring over box wine, She can’t tell you how it’ll all be fine, But always says you’ll see in time. Lost her teeth in another haunted smile, Fell black out sleeping on the ****** tiles, Of the sticky, sickly bar bathroom, Doesn’t remember how she even got home. She wants to laugh again without feeling self conscious, But the Smokey light from the bar is noxious, And the money goes the way it always did, slipping out in the night from the drawer where it hid.
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May 27
May 27, 2026 at 3:17 PM UTC
The Mirage
It was already hot like summer in spring, But you looked back and saw that was never the thing, The thing that made you want to hide inside, That made you feel you’d already died. And gone to a heaven where she was waiting, Cigarette in hand, standing, smiling, A porcelain white, blood red mirage, Your fingernails in the leather when she drove too fast. Alone on a platform waiting for that one song, To play in your ears on the Sony Walkman, Waiting, always waiting, always first to be there, Your funny ghost behind you, sweeps back your hair. Stops you from the uncertain act, That thing from which you can’t come back, Don’t destroy yourself on another summers day, My sad one, my lover, my heart, just stay. She sells the bible from the neon cathedral for 3.99, Spending forever pouring over box wine, She can’t tell you how it’ll all be fine, But always says you’ll see in time. Lost her teeth in another haunted smile, Fell black out sleeping on the ****** tiles, Of the sticky, sickly bar bathroom, Doesn’t remember how she even got home. She wants to laugh again without feeling self conscious, But the Smokey light from the bar is noxious, And the money goes the way it always did, slipping out in the night from the drawer where it hid.
Doe_spirit
Written by
37/F/Berlin, Germany
May 27
May 27, 2026 at 3:17 PM UTC
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