she braids her hair in three smooth strands

that criss-cross in a group of order three.

she has crimson tattoos in

delightful and delicate arches.

she likes Norwegian

death metal.

the hair on her leg, like a cockroach’s antenna

grasps everything, and

the sweat trickling from her back

is as lost as I am.

~

i imagine us as two solar systems

heading for collision,

promising great frireworks

in the sky for

others to wish their wish from.

~

but instead, we dance around the

black hole between us:

and are flung away

with our farewells

echoing in space for eternity

~

and

with no one to hear.

~~~

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