by Harley Hogan-Stone


The one bed trailer covers my body like a thin blanket
hot night enveloping me through the cracks in the windows.

My back kisses the door from the couch
As the wind rushes in with him.

Silver gleaming in his hand, flickering lights illuminating.
My skin b l e e d s

Cocaine fueled screams tickle my neck
brazened words emboldened by
the shine above my hair.

Seconds creep by
years feel past as
centuries crawl up my neck like vines.

And I wait for the bullet to part my hair

Iced sighs drift behind him.
He takes his silver through the door.
The slam shakes the cracks.

He sits back across from my tears
and lights a cigarette.


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