Fifty-seven: Checkmate

We’re sitting, simmering, shivering, stretching
out tentacles to feel each other up and it’s because
I’m cold and you’re hot but I’m burning and you’re not.

We’re playing darts with our eyes,
and chess with our words and I’m
pawing my pawns through
that one of them might get through.

That’s a lie.
And lying is bad
And I bet you’re not a liar,

But the truth is that
I’ll do it with you
even though I’m
holding all my pawns close to my chest.

I think I know I’m losing.
You’re crashing your way across the board,
soaring like a shooting star,
booming and gone in a blink
I can’t conquer but

I think I can sit still
long enough
for you to


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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