she said
‘Every time i touch this poem
It burns me and i want it to end before i cry’

i checked my pockets
to see if i had any peppermints
covered in lint
i feign ignorance)

she said
‘When you speak to me i can read your soul
through your eyes’

i pretended not to notice

she said
‘What’s it like for you?
Would you hunt me if i ran?’

i said nothing

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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