Alarmingly honest and beautifully written.

tin hats

I thought I ate that bleeding peach
enough times for my chin to stain
a sour shade of pink.

I can’t recall, the moments fell like towers-
but did I grind the pit into a powder?

Pressed beneath the skin like all the hours
you never spoke to me.

And every grain of it is like a silt of iron filings,
that’s settled in the center where
you said there was a furnace
burning hotter than the sea.

I always want to tell you that
it felt more like a cage that held
the eyeballs of a voyeur.

Either way the poles rip holes
with every waking hour.

When all your love for me was spent in
sordid miliseconds-
was it frail just like a springtime flower?

Or was it more like fingertips in winter-
a livid numb that in time feels like power?

Or was it more a nihilistic…

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3 thoughts on “Peach/Pit

  1. Can you see my big smile? Love the quote “I was dead before my grandmother was born.” true, but also priceless! Have a great December month, Jan!

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