private holiday

In the corner lies her suicide kit

nestled beneath overdue holiday gifts.

The twinkle in her lazy eye

reveled to me

a  fault line which continued to


But I under the same sort of duress

played hop scotch under

the stars with a vintage periodical

that gave me some sort of faith

in humankind

which we may soon throw out the window

when we begin to hope

for a feeling all to real

and personal

that it leaves us soon to begin

a process of denial

and subtraction.


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