moths over monarchs

an ode to the narcoleptic nightingale 

an ode to the anesthesia of devotion

an ode to the impending paralysis (between us)

an ode to the modicum of intimacy

an ode to the volition of vengeance (in verse)

an ode to the lunatic prince (his preference)

moths over monarchs

counterfeit over catharsis 

an ode to the immunity of injury 

an ode to the atrophy of ardency 

even accidentally, coronary contusions 

remain careless (nevertheless)

an ode to the paradox of poetry

an ode to you, to she (and me)

a. duncan, 2018

 

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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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