Sláinte

The Sounds Inside

I wrote you a letter
explaining how important it was
for me
to never see you again.
It took me over a year
to send it.
All the while I was
trying to piece together
a life without a future tense.

I tried to stop smoking
for you,
but it never stuck.
There’s a glacial disdain
in the old photographs of us,
we would perch uncomfortably
in condensed clothing and an
illegitimate aesthetic.

There was a soft-focus tenderness,
you weren’t quite pretty,
but you were almost beautiful.
I was hell-bent
on living out a Serbian
montage, and you just wanted
to prove your father wrong.
I discussed shrapnel with him
over Irish whisky
and I just knew he despised me.

You would whisper
of fascists, and of sociopaths,
and of pathological lying
for the sake of creating a reality.
I would reply with the talk of exile,
with hiding my…

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Author: Sudden Denouement

A Literary Collective

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