Him
We must have wandered too close to the
same thought.
When I mention him
your eyes dip behind a bruised blue haze.
Blood worms buckle a hot sidewalk
in my brain.
For a moment we share the same rage,
a lust for sawing cut-throat words.
The conversation moves on,
but still your hands open and close
like breathless gills,
while I chew over his undead image.
Shadows drift away to fall asleep in a corner,
yet some return
when you sigh and stare at the blank ceiling.
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