Arts + Scene » Poetry

Quid Pro Quo

(or things we say to each other in order to stay connected)



What happens if I lock myself out?
What happens if you were it?

So, will you help with cupcake hell?
Will you help me make sense?

I don't know how to plant things.
I don't know how to live without you.

Reconciliation fantasies
at the most inopportune moments,

and are simultaneously two-dimensional and curiously sensual.

Like the mirroring that happened
in the middle of the silences
when the only images thrusting themselves forward
were coated in vulnerable spaces
and hidden fears.


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