Some Loves

It is not for me to coddle what is left of this
raging, wild hope

some loves turn tricks – some loves swallow you
like pills and nestle the flush in your cheeks
like pillows – some loves disaster love, purposely –
some loves pause with anxiety that leads to adultery
and the return of Cotard’s crawling around the soul –
some loves are mine and leave popsicle imprints
across unstable mouths – some loves are hateful
and it spills over from their cocks to make sense
of love, to make it feel like a game – some loves

are fresh air.

those loves are not mine
but nostalgia a dream
more like memories of a scent and trees in a certain light,
the 17th page of that one book hopping down a staircase
it’s nostalgia a dream
a quilt left behind juicy plums suburban alleyways,
edibles with Ben & Jerry’s in Old Town by a fountain –
some loves leave themselves behind as ghosts
to manifest when the brain is silenced
when the heart is a question and susceptible
to the reverie of returning to homesick skin

but,
it is not for me to coddle what is left of this
raging, wild hope

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