to love him

 

to love him is to accept an inevitable fate

the lingerie I hang on his mind’s clothesline

billow in the autumnal breeze

gentle reminders of past-tenses

my body’s poetry writing itself

posthumously

sexual potential bleeding

onto our bed sheets

like a broken pilot pen

to love him is to accept a tourniquet

in the form of the american dream

life, liberty and the pursuit of….

auto erotic asphyxiation

a.duncan, 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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"She would fill endless notebooks with stories about the characters in her life, their impressions, words, friends, lovers, inspirations, fantasies. She spent her days dreaming up worlds where they fit together in visions; the if only, the never again, the someday. Those who knew her best would describe her as a creature with a clear and sometimes painful sense of herself; furious with ideas and convictions, to a point that she frightened love away with discernment and a relentless strength of character."

5 thoughts on “to love him

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