poetry

sometimes

you were stretched too thin
almost see through
I could see your heart
beat
through your
yellowed skin

I was wound too tight
mind clouded black
like the
polka-dot burn
marks on our
rug

together
we read the
astrology
report
taped to the register
at the coffee shop
and
wrote out big
plans for
‘one day’

alone
I eat peanut
butter out
of the jar
with a bent
spoon

it takes
me back there

sometimes

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