I heard a polish woman call out to her daughter
out of the corner of my ear,
I knew her heart was as dusty as her voice.
[epileptic candle flicker]
-on the tip of my tongue
-in the back of my mind
It was the sound of destitution
the feeling that if someone didn't
awaken her heart
she would implode
as a black hole in a sunfilled sky.
(Hell, the stars I prayed to were never on my side.)
And I know I'll never know happiness,
the way I was dreamt to: meant to
She was kindred
of the darkest kind
[Blinded by beauty but never blinking]
As if it were a memory that knew how to taunt,
dancing in front of your eyes with ethereal disgrace
Just to let you know you are not yet dead.
a crumbled fortune cookie
and a slip of paper
lying still upon the old oak table
"Maybe next time."
Yes, maybe next lifetime...
her and I...
we will hold the stars.
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