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We’re fighting

When you relive the same exhausting argument every day and you realize all the clocks in the crumbling mansion have broken for a long time

By Yasmin Ben-DavidPublished 2 months ago 1 min read
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We’re fighting
Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash

We’re fighting

And all the children fall

Into the posies that fell

Out of their pockets

We’re fighting again

What else is new, rosy cheeks

Stained with dew

You’ve donned your rosy hue

A cloak of perturbation

A shroud Of temperamental

Sensation in the heavens

Where the angry gods take the

Blue from the sky

And give it to you and I

And now our pity party in the

Quicksand no one is invited to

Is begging for witnesses

Begging for press coverage

Alone within the banishing circle

Our house made of salt

The shudders are solemnly

Closing their eyelids

Waiting for a feather

To hit the ground

And scab its knees again

Our tails between our legs

Please don’t chase me again

If we could ever have the

Pleasure

Of doing this again

All I ask is that you don’t chase me

Don’t chase me again

Leave me on the chaise lounger

With my arm across my head

Sighing for arrested respite

Gazing at the ceiling

Anticipating

The inevitable

heartbreak
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