Pretty in A Hard Way

December 13, 2018

The ground moves with snakes,

and the sky bleeds red streaks,

as if the night couldn’t leave

without a fight, and all your dreams

are tragedies where no one dies,

but everyone suffers. In your past

life when you woke up hungover, you’d

think, Anything is better than this.


You were a confection, a little

dead around the eyes, the kind

of woman people describe as

pretty in a hard way. And you

refuse to go gently into that good

night. And let’s face it. Not all

of them were good ones. You don’t

care. There is nothing you can do

about it now. Gather the pieces

as best you can even if they cut you.


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