collateral

 

tenderly aging alliterations

and other agnostic hypocrisies

i used to be a masterpiece

but the flourishing of sinews

has since ceased

my limbs languishing

and curves collapse

to bitter avalanches

every day in a residual

state of damage control

after all

we are our own collateral

a. duncan, 2017

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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."

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