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Thanks,
Patricia
[This is where the summary would go if I'd bothered to write one.]
A cool smooth voice
drifts through the dusty, stale air
crooning words of love
bringing sharp needles to
pierce the heart.
I sit on the edge
of a faded worn mattress,
staring into a speckled
old mirror; black/gray
spots interfering with
the image of eyes that
can’t recall a soul.
Flat lightless pools
staring at a stranger’s face.
My hands are slack upon my knees,
feeling the heat
of my embarrassment
coursing through my
sugar filled veins.
A body
sinks into the mattress.
That one not giving a damn
about broken springs that cause
discomfort.
Shallow breaths slow
rising up fermenting the air.
Wheezes and shrills
blend with the words of
love in the still air.
Harmonizing with the soul-
stabbing notes.
Round and round
the needle finding
it’s groove, scratching
out the fairy tales.