amber

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i.

 

a voice as decadent as the final drops of life

before the ultimate goodbye

inflections in gold

chipping away

hello

a cry

i need

 

 

ii.

 

a dream in which she floats to me

in a white dress that trails

across the dewy night-darkened grass

she holds my shaking hand

and leads me to my own mausoleum

angel, thank you for the

death

 

 

iii.

 

i don’t mind minding as you misbehave

and sticking a cigarette in the little dent

your tongue makes when you fold it up

into a clover

am i lucky or am i dead

your curls caught in my fingers

shiny shadow traps

for my ghosts

 

 

iv.

 

it wasn’t me who tried to kill you

you accept that so surely

it scares me

let’s sit and count lightning strikes

while our best friends who haunt us

and our spirits who lift us

wonder how a girl who fears purgatory

could fall in love with a murderer

 

 

v.

 

you told me that when you first met me

you felt like a moth

because my eyes are the color of fire

i wonder if you still felt that way when you

watched me shoot my best friend

we’ve been everywhere together, you realize—

new orleans, new england,

the last judgement, the boarded-up bakery on the

corner of the street where i grew up

i’m dying now

and feeling again all your leaf-rustle breaths

against my fading

skin

 

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