Paris

I’d long ago given up and said good-bye to teeth fitting inside the hypnotic turning of the larger mechanical works. A little redheaded step-child to a wretch whose affection I’d never garner.

A face like home came around with a voice of warm chocolate. Better, in fact. All the comfort and place of the sweet without the belly-fat and sugar lows it sires like rotting time displaced and wasted.

It comes and goes. In like sunlight until it’s gone like hoping to sunbathe through an overcast.

I want to catch it all and press it in to a single thing I can hold on to. I want to clutch it in my fists and carry it through each punch I throw during this brawl of one.

The dark holds no space in my heart, and like an astronaut I want to rocket through it with waves of fire and discover the stars. The blood pounding in my ears would be a good friend if I knew the way to speak to it, as would the drumming against my chest with the sticks of my plaque-slowed heart. The only friend I have right now is the shortness of breath that you try to avoid at a party, with all the dead-end small talk and barely-there smiles that fun elicits.

The debate does neither side any favors unless they were hoping to exhaust one another. In that endeavor they are royalty reigning with tropical winds and drenching anyone close by with their insufferable, stormy rule.

My true love is bright, sunny, and without so much as a consideration for some of the things that I have surrendered to, and to juxtapose that against the malevolent greys back-dropping tired pines could signal a lack of self-awareness.

I’ve long ago given up on a fit for my zipper teeth and said hello to buttoning up my tattered coat. The blue light will flicker and maybe even die completely, but it won’t be without me resurrecting my fight till the cat curses its nine lives and prays for me to let it retire beneath the city to sleep.

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