Loose End

by December 9, 2015 0 comments

I don’t like you.
the inside of your head
that we both get lost in
is another story

It’s over.
I don’t want the wrong idea growing
in those contorted dark folds
tangled like sheets

I’m done.
too exhausted
to play games (I don’t want you to win)

I’m tired.
I want to curl up and have my whole head
smoothed in those sheets
by you


I mean it.​

– Andrea Bonaccorsi

editors note:

Body caught in the brain bed; so hard to mean it when you don’t. – mh clay

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