poetry

milkshake

It’s too simple

To say you hated him

Hate implies a connection

(Between sips of your

Milkshake

To sweeten the bitter taste

Which comes when you

Say his name)

It is a zen indifference

You spoke of

The scars formed

Blossomed for a time

Heavy enough to make

Branches bend

But then they fell away

And you broke the branches

Of their actions

Made a fire to keep out

The cold

And burned their infection away

Dead flesh of yours burned along with it

New and healing with time

You slurp the thick last inch

Branches of veins at your temples

Then you thank them

And

Leave

You listened

And in doing so

Took a small measure of

Whatever they said

They weren’t feeling

But your hands shake

As you go outside

And the milk sits

Heavy in your stomach

It is a comfort to

not float away

Howling with

Anger

And see yourself

Becoming nothing but a dot

In the sky

 

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9 thoughts on “milkshake

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