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“9 p.m.”

We sit on opposite ends of a couch.


 

Too afraid to touch each other's skin

To grace the heat upon the body

once intertwined in which we became one.

And we lose moments upon moments

Forgetting the endless father clock that will stop ticking

And each day has a rise and a fall

with dawn and sunsets arrive new beginnings.

We are glued to the idiosyncrasies of the monotony

carried on through advertisements rushed at our eyes

Blazing music heard through bass filled speakers

and the sound of a child crying out for attention.


 

For if we break this silence, this code-


 

one of us loses.

through battle and heart ached war we have seen

pessimistic days filled with tongue lashings and awkward pauses

ignoring physical presence and tyrannical domination


 

and I speak


 

ever so humbly. walking on glass that splits my naked feet

my wounds open and hemorrhage the definition of myself

the creation of my dominion, the power of my being

and excellence of my conception


 

I have fallen weak


 

by the depressive empty energy re-filled with

curse words and blame denial and shame

I have walked through the valley of darkness

the ends of earth

to hell and back

and still I walk

on glass.


 

With feet aching, I decide to sit down

take a load off

and relax my mind.

He joins the room

entering in (silence)

as we sit on opposite ends of the couch.


 

-b.r.rivera

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