On dating someone you can never crack

From there, it became a nightly procession

Of tsunami waves colored pencils and hash

A sweet syrupy concoction turning sour in our stomachs,

Rising to our throats and staining the toilet bowls purple

Every night we drank the strange juice and spoke

The same barbs and jives

We washed our ears and spat out our livers

And scrubbed between our bloody teeth with toothbrushes

I can’t think of a time we weren’t sweeping up broken mirror shards; or

Glopping mayo on each other’s sandwiches,

Drying our hands on each other’s pants.

It turned into a ritual of yearning

Wet soap on crisp linen

The smell of lemon verbena pressed on gabardine

A tiny sword hung from a chain around her ankle

Dragging him along,

Limp.

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