Ten across;
not loyalty, faithfulness
or constancy.

Took nothing with me
when the game was over
we all lost,
it was all unfair.

all that’s left of you
and me, in an empty corner,
is an ugly scar:
only fibres of ligaments,
bulging tubes of stiff keloids

etched on my skin

pulsating in the hot dark

dishonesty on my lips, eyelids

fingertips –

I left,
at the beginning of autumn

Past dirty colours made with furtive kisses &
the cherry blossom
, leaning against it kicking the dead buds me
not turning around.

Over to you folks, let me know what you think:

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