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Chemical Coleridge

Coleridge has

become a drug;

He floods me

Like an ancient sea

Free of all the 

neurotic ways 

of my inescapably 

poetic days;

I float on towards

Xananu that shines

over my eyes

mirroring neglected

fireflies; bizarre

trees sparkle white

in the yellow oiled lights

I feel like I could still

love you like this;

not quite dreaming

Still awake enough

to dissolve into a

chemical sleep

If only I was with you.

I could make your body sing.


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'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

'There's a bullet for you, just in case.'

Hope had left the gun on the table.

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In a rare instance of good fortune, her phone ran out of battery before she could indulge her sense of pithy revenge. She woke up and pried open her tear-salted eyelashes then made sure to delete an…