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The Most Exquisite Catastrophe


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I knew this was not the beginning,
My voice seemed to be sewn to the inside of my lungs,
When your top and bottom lips were only attracted to each other,
The only things that seemed to meet were your eyes to the floorboards,
You tiptoed in like the fog,
Much like a passive phantom or a hushed shadow,
Apathetic as a habitual executioner,
But your eyes were wet like a newly painted canvas,
Decorated with a pupil island and an iris disguised as the ocean,
You were comprised of a cup of Houdini and three tablespoons of Casanova,
Tricking not only the eye but all of my senses,
My heart was like a beloved photo that was tattered and torn,
That existed only to be burned in an inferno,
Believing belligerently that these flames could thaw out my arctic core,
Global warming wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t smile like that,
You melted all of me in a way the Sun never could,
And I proved to be as resilient as Icarus’s Wings,
All wax, no wings,
Except this wax could not be shaped into a candle nor hold a flame,
And I was left solo soulless in as much ash as any Wednesday,
You were left without bones, skin, or organs a mere memory of a time long ago.



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