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by Mila Flores 2 years ago in heartbreak

On the destructive powers of exes.

in one

mere breath i

remember how it feels so be alive, how

expectation can survive being ripped through the layers upon the world so that

i might feel something at your touch.

elapse, time.

a memory to recall in only tender moments

of the past disregard which is really

the present, the prescient carelessness that drives me


and the path. other worlds, trenched

into a different sort of trouble bathed in

neon light.

which asks me

what i can and cannot handle.

what i will and will not

deny myself in the growing light of day. as i watch

the sun come up on another day wherein i feel tied to a specter that would bring me down

in his own desire to be like me, horrorshow of carnal delight.

wonder settles.

and as such i become latent, under

lying and irritated with resentment.

and i become a wretch, a lifegiven creature

that spews dark filth upon first reawakening, set upon a threshold that demands pain for survival

and scrambles itself to avoid true sight.

eyes glued shut by my own body, you

peel me open to see the rot within and decide

upon rehabilitation.

cultivation of decayed roots, overlooking

the disease that set upon aggrieved body

in the first place. small mercies, to not

give power to malignancy.

or voice to admissions of pain. tending

to the broken roots, so maybe once

you can touch me and not come away

feeling unrighteous.

maybe once you can

find strength and solitude

wherein you can admit to poisoning

what little was left.

the well of sorrows empties.


Mila Flores

teeth-bared contemporary, often writing, often dreaming.


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