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A Flash.

Love would come, blinking fast, it would come, it would come, it would come again.

By Jen Parkhill “JP”Published 2 years ago 2 min read
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Photography by Adam Coleman

people are always

expecting me

to fuck

like a porn star

I only play one

on the teevee

some

times

and this time i’d wanted to.

i’d really wanted to

fuck to black

fuck to forgetting.

I was sleeping

with women I felt

wanted to devour me.

perhaps they did.

perhaps they didn’t.

perhaps I wanted

them to.

surprised to find me

softer, sweeter,

than what they’d

imagined

in a bedroom.

and then the fall

and the run

me running

sans shoes

through the night

away from mosh

pits of fantasy

disguised

as love

my arms

limp spaghetti

i’d only wanted

to be tossed

round a room

against a wall

am I ready yet

cum till I wept

a life in monogamy

hasn’t worked yet

I’m not taking bets

but I might be done

and then the gifts

they started coming

what were they buying?

what were they silencing?

never knew one

that didn’t have

the price tag

left on

I had to go

a blizzard.

January in Texas

blanket of snow

on the Texan street

the Texan cacti

an orange tree

and me alone

with my feelings

and my friends

and my feelings

and the snow

and with it

I could near hear

the radiator

blurring steam

in New York

all couples

becomes teams

fighting the elements

in winter

even the dead ones

rally and try again

a simple means

of survival

a heart fed

I could feel

our sheets

kicked off socks

from heat

at the foot

of a bed

our home

not my home

anymore

a sleep

like I’ve never had

before

or again

her head

on my

warm chest

busy street

where poets

once poet-ed

now karaoke

and hot dogs

yuppies

their voices

bouncing

off walls

of glass

and still

a place

you could feel

time

that bed

that building

that view

of a snowblown

city street

in morning

and—

gone.

the Texas snow.

and the feeling.

fast as they’d come.

and she—

like out of a sad dream

an almost nightmare

a misspent

beautiful dream

headlights

blaring past

screaming

love would come

blinking fast

it would come

it would come

it would come

again

a comet

hurling

and for a flash

she was a light.

heartbreaklove poemsperformance poetrysad poetrysurreal poetry
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About the Creator

Jen Parkhill “JP”

Jen Parkhill “JP”, a first generation Cuban-American artist and proud member of the LGBTQIA+ community. Cat dad, writer, filmmaker, actor, friend, and graduate of the Tisch School of the Arts, NYU.

Hurling through time.

@jenparkhill

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