written by Melissa Shode
edited by Betty Doyle

And after a while, we just do it
Because we have to;
Like waiting for sunrise,
When every day is pitch black.

If I concentrate hard enough,
I can hear you spit out,
“I still love you.”
These fresh petals are even
Stained with the smell of you.

I wish I could say that winter is the reason
That I’m catching snowflakes on my tongue,
But it’s the middle of June and half a jar later,
I can still taste you.

The bathroom is painted with
One litre of colourful remedies –
Russian Standard, I think they call it.

I keep wishing that
This monstrous furnace
Lodged in my throat,
Would just burn me to ashes.

The moon is slicing through the curtains,
Illuminating the dirty, unforgivable ink.

Magic bursts out of my veins,
And dances on the page like
Crimson fairy dust.

But I’ve found one thing that will hold me up,
Till you get back anyway,
I’ve put on my best clothes,
For when you return,
And I’m wearing your favourite necklace…

Please don’t be mad.

But I’m tired of waiting for you;
I’m tired of waiting for my sunrise.


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