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The Highs

a poem

By Ella ValentinePublished 5 months ago 1 min read
The Highs
Photo by Jessica Christian on Unsplash

i pretend i’m across the room — it’s too ugly to be human

standing tall, exposed

and just maybe if i stay far enough she won’t see all the parts in me that make me uncomfortable

we are a mess, a myriad of bad thoughts, vanities and mosaics of unlived memories

her magic mushroom high subsides and i don’t need to keep up with her philosophical theories anymore

all i can see is her belly, belly

soft and cream


the most perfectly shaped belly button i have ever seen

it almost compels me to lay my head on it and confess my entire soul to her, all my

filth and shame

i get confused and don't say a word but i let her caress me

like she likes to do as if to give her a little borrowed power to carry — regardless, we won't stay too long

the universe — hurtling at meteoric speed collapsing

she doesn't want anything but to be with me

how do i tell her i can’t do anything except think of my

selfish non-endurance

she wonders if i can hear her loving me while i ask her what she wants

as if i could ever deliver that

i am too sane and bitter for love, our past is haunting me and i refuse to pour more hurt into her

but i probably will do it anyway

love poems

About the Creator

Ella Valentine

A poet and screenwriter based between NYC, LA and London. I'd love to connect with fellow creatives - feel free to reach out to me!

Twitter: @_EllaValentine

Instagram: ella.vn

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