For Jessie.
If you guys like, I can put up more poems.
A Conversation
Two black holes,
enveloping light, reason, personality -
and destruction is eclipsed
by a vapid rip across her face.
My hands crawl away from a bohemian epidemic.
And no point of discussion could equal
her sense of tragedy, her abyss of expectant dialogue.
Attraction has its faults,
the epiphany of averting your gaze,
the feeling of ugly disquietude.
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