Trapeze

She was first and foremost a trapeze artist
a high wire woman made of stone who
blindfolded everyone around her.

You don’t have to fall in love with everyone
you see she said, as she lit a cigarette and
smirked through the smoke.

She dangled the bone crushing kind of desire
from the sky, the kind that strikes you like
grief and leaves scars in the shape of teeth.

I’ve always been splenetic, she said as the orange
fuse glow blew out, crushed and lovely. It’s the
photographs really, that blurred me into misery.

+ I want to be let alone. +

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