Untitled #613

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Dreadlocks dangle like spiders,
leaving cobwebs in my mind. You
tipped the beaker, letting our
chemistry
bubble over the line between
work and play
but I wish you hadn't.
Fires burn beside your name,
but you have yours and
I have mine
and I refuse to waste
any time with someone who isn't
my future, my forever.
As he drives me
towards happily ever after,
I still think of you
but I'll wish I hadn't.

Poetry of EmmaWhere stories live. Discover now