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Most are others.
Salt to fresh -
an estuary,
Cindy and Harry,
he and her.

A cell misplaced,
though intentional,
carried indefinitely within.

It makes no sense, but when she drinks,
his room begins to spin.
Heaven
Denim wrapped around my neck as I lay,
peaceful.
Dangerous, sure. Then why’s it feel so sweet?
Sleepy drool I stretch to kiss,
you wake,
we laugh,
unreal.
Absorbed in arms, tension I want to keep.

Hell
Comes knocking, waking pain, a truth I still don’t know,
but seas of distance closing in would sooner bring us close.
Baby toes
lined in a row
scrunching up the rug.

Much preferring
bubble spits
on me than gentle hugs.

Reaching out
with chubby hands
to me, whom takes steps back.
Not to reject,
but encourage firsts,
one-two-three-four!

We clap.
What was love,
before the scars?
The tension there
was never ours.
But in the cast
I made your nurse,
and thought to hold you close
made it all better.
Weird dreams lately
What doesn’t **** you
might just be enough
to scar the ring
within the bark
that shields your heart.
Cravings for what’s similar -
A taste
Left wanting more

Riddled deep with gnats and worms
Rotten to the core

But might the sweetness from within
Derive from could-be rot?

Tender ripeness with a bite,
Decidedly it’s not
Running on this hamster wheel,
the tongue starts to feel cold.

When will saying everything
we think
start feeling old?
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