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Glass chairs and plastic guitarsCold galvanized roof panels,
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licked and caressed; rolled happiness,
filters burnt, preserved centimeters;
hearts blurring past.
Lips against my fingers,
breaths pulled and pushed to wake me,
to beg me,
and little words standing high enough
to cause a strain on my neck
as I barely reach them.
He's dysphoria in blue,
close enough to touch, far enough to run
without his eyes flickering open.
Deck lights, rhythmic glows from love songs
and he starts singing.
I forget you for a moment.
I forget how your pupils are always wrongly sized
and the constant movement of your elbows on my ribs.
You're a distant fog,
but you aren't thinning.
It's winter in your lungs, and you're angry
and the pain comes from menthol Dunhills and dry heaved reminiscences.
I forget you for as long as the voices around me stay burning.
And then I walk back to brittle beds,