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isn’t it romantic :: jameson fitzpatrick

by on May 12, 2016

how he bends the wrist almost until it snaps
and the fist gives into opening
so that the pills spill and scatter
like a strand of pearls
pulled off a neck in haste —
this is how desperately he wanted me
to live: like a man dying to see me
naked, no embellishment


From → poems

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