Moths in my chest flutter then stop
Their sweet, sticky tongues
flickering long out to chomp on
the carcass that throbs there unsteady
Removing it would be of no consequence
for it’s already in shreds, useless
yet the dull ache of it lets one know
that the rest of the body lives on
Days of staring, holding devices
That are meant to connect
But I’m only divided…
Where are you my friend?
Did you brush my hair?
Did we look at the stars?
Yet even then I was looking on us
As beloved memories from afar
Full with missing and heavy with desire.
Ed: Brianna B.
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