to end.

Gentle and curved

back beat down by your lies

eyelashes clinging to skin

like I cling to thoughts

of us trickling out of

jazz clubs and

bookstores and

the coffee shop by the river

where you wade in the glow

of a glistening 5:00 sun

and I long to see you

tangled and grieving for me

in your bed sheets.


How ridiculous

to love so quickly

drenched with



on our palms.


Danielle Fusaro

via Poetry

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