Exhausted

My friend,
exhausted,
her social enamel worn away,
too nice to snap,
too tired to listen,
too involved to stop.

All words and arguments
are sharp points of assault.
She no longer feels
this caressing as friendship.

image: po

Dylan Harris
86-87

it's my hands
my difficulty with melancholy
hence the coldness
fear in flight, god
dog sea
push pop
all
publish

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