Nana mon amour
You used to say
that pizza always sucks
once you’ve had your last slice
you’d grab the best sneer to mimic
all those moments we couldn’t box in
would have your forehead slipping into eternity
by stroking the surface of boiling water
would complain about pain
like it it could go away with high frequency
and would dress my happiness
like the first day of school
would remove my patience
strip it back like sun-dried skin
extract the life out of mouldy glimpses
pour it back into sudden itches
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