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Whiplash

I keep looking to the opening door,

hoping to see you walk in.

It’d be a miracle if you did.

Its an impulse-

an instinct.

Something rooted in my subconscious.

A parasite that lives rent free in there.


The door opens

and my head snaps.


I want more then anything,

to see you today.

I might have to be the one who reaches out,

but I won’t.

I can’t.

Not unless,

I get really really

drunk.


We’ll see.


I don’t feel much potential in anyone else I meet,

only,

in you


The door opens again.

I resist the urge to snap my head

but eventually,

curiosity wins.

The ‘what if’,

beats me.


Once again,

it isn’t you.


I think I pulled a muscle in my neck,

whipping it around so many times,

to see someone

who isn’t you.


The drunker I get,

the more the loneliness rains down from the gray sky

and hits my face.


I should stop while I am ahead

or before I give myself

some serious whiplash.


-C.H.


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