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drug

Go ahead, light him up
Inhale his vapor, feel his high
After all
If his smoke doesn’t kill you
His love will

—m.h.

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september

I’m fighting for something to just go away
I beg then I plead and sometimes I pray
That this sickness will end
That these demons won’t haunt me
Though there are days when I hope they will kill me

With eyes that are gold
And hands that can hold me
There’s a person who shows me much more than I’m seeing
He taught me to love
He whisked me away
And something about him makes me want to stay

The touch of his fingers
The sound of his voice
His laughter, his smile, I don’t have a choice
He has the eraser, he’s helping me clean
My chalkboard of dastardly, sickening deeds

The way that I love him should well be a crime
It’s illegal the way that we steal away time
If birds couldn’t fly
Or butterflies stopped their flutter
Given the chance I won’t choose any other

He’s a song when he’s quiet
A ballet when he speaks
The way he says “Matthew”
It makes me feel weak

In days without number
As both lovers and friends
We lived a forever September
In an autumn without end

–m.h.

arms

4121FB78-C803-459B-9AD2-13BE24618E23.jpgWarm breath displaces the hair on my neck, while your irregular heart beats against my spine. Fingers, locked, count my ribs.

Hips buckle, groan, swivel, unwind, to the hum of your father’s laughter in the room across the hall.

The rise and fall in our chests. Legs intertwined, hang off of the edge. Your twin bed, so vast, nearly swallows us whole.

It’s the perfect place to forget that we’re dying.

—m.h.

handprint

You touched me like condensated glass
Left behind moments as intricate as the spirals on your fingers
Days dripped around your imprint
Words crawled through the canyon in your palm
For a time, we lay cradled in your lifeline

Still, I pretend we reside there
But the glass fell cold
And your arms grew weary
When you left you smudged the place where your thumbnail met my Achilles
I try to remember

Even now, with your limb removed, I find refuge in what remains
A glimmer of your knuckle
A fragment of your heel
Finger by finger, you disappear
Until your handprint on my life, fades away.

—m.h.