Paper poem

A courting I will go
because that’s how to play this one.
Slow, steady, with a knack for patience
I don’t posses. I will fake it.

***

You are my girl with a short skirt
and a long jacket. You’ve got that flint
in your voice; it’s the subtlest of growls
that tends to steer my heart toward crushing.
See, so, it’s nobodies fault.

***

There is a ghost in my periphery
often
it is a hallucinatory pal best
friend in fake form

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