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Miranda Peterson Mar 2010
Startled by my reflection
In the open window
Living room straight back
through the kitchen

Blue snowlight
Stares through me

Seeing out all day long, forgetting

The night drops black curtains quiet
when no one's looking, instead
Of out

I see in
Brave and solitary
The one waits true
Bright unsecret
Blood rushing real
Whispering cure

He can see pain and touch it
away
with golden sincerity
brandychanning Dec 2024
“I don't know how to take this
I don't see why he moves me
He's a man, he's just a man
And I've had so many men before
In very many ways
He's just one more“
<•>
ladies
you know ~ I know
these lyrics and the deep cut
and the familiar rut,
they unsecret in our inner chambers

and there is no bandage to
rip off, which/why the cut
never heals
despite your careful care to never
actively seek out the
irritant

but it finds you
in a rom-com
a particular intersection
a advertisement for half zip sweaters
when saying no to a
particular restaurant automatically

and the emotional shake,
not a smoothie,
part horseradish sweet sad,
part bitter herbs, tasteless bread,
spiced with a blend of
angry, self-loathing, regret,
and rage that your emotions
abduct your composure,
and that it still happens
way too often

a pale of regret,
that it was a lost chance,
the kind that come more infrequent,
and you mourn
the building up inside,
an intolerance for risk taking
which once
was your
most favorite
single characteristic
you liked,
about yourself
bad  friday night, a rained out saturday

— The End —