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"slapback" poems
Scattered across my bedroom floor, glimmers of light staccato on wilted rose pedals Memories of us,  the faintest slapback of the person I was with you, flicker with lethargic buoyancy  Fondness for fondness sake, denial as a delicacy Your face, obscured in these floral polaroids Impressions of who you were; what you meant to me, a struggle to behold but recognizable in ripples across the faces of others Remains of an entanglement that seemed to answer why the universe was even formed to begin with This omnipresent truth laying abed the other jagged reality of our affair; it was never you, it was my self-possessing pursuit of wholeness
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Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 9:10 AM UTC
Staccato Rose Polaroids