Fair

The cold wind clashes against my face
and I am lost in the zephyr.
There is nothing but space between you and
I.
Even though I prefer we make the bed together.
There’s not much I can say to change your mind,
you’re set in stone
inside these bones
even though
you don’t know.
The night is wrapped around my hands and mouth
I’m bound beneath this heavy doubt.
Can’t you just trust that I know how?
Happiness
works
if you play fair.

M.

Poetry

Mandy Joy Poole View All →

Writer and photographer from remote Labrador, Canada. Just another cold Labradorian chillin' in the Big Land. Can most likely be found walking my dog Grace or behind an iMac screen slowly taking over the interwebs.

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