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She draws black wings to her eyes
in a green-wash reflection, light
cascading through the shutters
of the ceiling fan, whilst red lips
rehearse a smile for her lover.

He will hold her like a wallet as
they pay their way through town.
It has been months since she felt
human touch, mammalian warmth,
or whispers exchanged across the pillow.

His eyes are on the screen as she
undresses and then falls beneath
his weight on the mattress. An empty
thud, a hollow sound, as his night is
given purpose, and then falls to sleep again.

She lies awake and wonders where
her night went. There was laughter
across the table, drinks stirred with straws,
and UFOs painting pictures in the sky.
The sea roared in the distance like

a passing train, and so there must be
an escape to a far-off land for her
to start again. Start again beyond
waistlines, over coastlines, and all ties
to employment. To start again

with a half-naked lover, who will
watch as the wind kicks up her hair;
as her skin freckles once more
in the sun.
c
 Aug 2014 Spencer Dennison
AJ
If only you could high jack my blood stream
And do an immediate landing.
Because I am flying so high.

If the sun wants to play
Who am I to turn her away?
 Aug 2014 Spencer Dennison
AJ
I'm not even allowed to be upset anymore.
This is some 1984 *******.

You used to be the only shape I prayed to.
Jezebel



In addition to a song I wrote last year, "I Need To Use Both Hands". Inspired by Iron&Wine;.
 Aug 2014 Spencer Dennison
AJ
You were a heartbreak.

Mothers in waiting rooms of the ER.
Fallen ice cream cones.

Didn't know whether to cradle you,
Or revolt.
I chose both.
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