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you held on to him as if he was the last tangible thing, keeping you from falling to hell. you grabbed his hand so tight your knuckles turned white as if he would run away the second you let go. after all, you didn't want to hang more flyers in your chest, begging people to call if they found him. you didn't want to have another funeral for all the memories between you and him. And my god you must have been disappointed when you realized that just like him, the moon follows everyone. he teaches them all to dance to hungry eyes, darling. you let him wring out your ego like a sopping towel and when he didn't come over that night, you misplaced your importance. you overdosed on "i love you" and now your brain is so fried, you forgot that love isn't supposed to make you cry. he was your pair of glasses and you're stumbling without him. life doesn't make sense and you can't seem to get your head to stop hurting from squinting so hard trying to keep the tears from falling the same way your mother's did when she found out you would rather be dead. i wish i could tell you it gets better but you fell and i'm so sorry but paralysis doesn't fix itself baby girl. some things in life are permanent and i'm sorry that the pain he cause you when he forgot to catch you has to be one of them.
You are a virus absorbed through the eyes and ears
that attacks the soul. You are nothing more
than your own vaccine
and antibodies are rushing up to exterminate you.
To F.R., with loathing.
How I (hardly) came:
I imagined loving you.
Then I dressed and left.
To C.R., with loathing.
I tonicize you.
Though you are sol and I am do,
I've modified my tonal path
to add weight to your presence:
I've written you this leading tone
in hope of upward resolution
and to avoid frustration.

Tonicize me,
for you are sol and lead to do.
Let us modulate through mutual friends;
let us flaunt our perfect consonance!
Let us cadence together
when the music finally ends.
For D.
I remembered how the doors in my apartment are very tall,
how my belt is short,
and how I begin all my relations with goodbye
A naked body next to yours
won't make you feel
less alone.

A kiss as soft as moss
won't quell
the shadow's voice.

A clean escape
won't ease your steps
as you walk away.

But those things don't matter much,
because it's dark outside
and cold inside
and you can't sleep
and the phone won't ring.
Hope doesn't perch.
Hope isn't a smiling face
among a dismal crowd.
Hope isn't the light at the end
of the tunnel.

Hope is when the crows
grow full from the carrion of
a dead lamb and rest.
Hope is when the old man
having forgotten himself years ago
falls asleep one last time.

Hope is everything you've needed
after you didn't need it anymore.
Hope is the time after the noose tightens
and before you fade away.
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