literature

flirting with disaster

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Literature Text

how slowly we remember
how quickly we forget,

I’ve lost track of time
and the buckling waves
smash the beach as before, over and over
speaking a foreign language, but
I still look and listen
waiting for my selkie to return.

So these hands,
these painful hands
which I only claimed yesterday,
sipping glass upon glass of icewater,
earl grey on an iceberg
they remind me I am mortal
as I clench them in a cold surprise.

I’ve finally found the inner gypsy in me
searching for change as before, over and over
speaking a foreign language, but
I must go and celebrate
looking for angels
in the strangest places.

I’ve finally found three of them, each are
regal, strong, full of contempt, melancholy,
excited but tired, joyous but fragile
and always so tender,
more than a man in love can comprehend,
I gently push them to the brink
with pie and coffee and a confessional

and with a SHIIIZZZZAM!
they vanish…

the magician’s lament:
I wish she could’ve waited
until I sawed her in half.
   
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Comments1
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slenderblade's avatar
kindness and yearning mixed with resignation;

This is a fine red wine.