Artichoke Heart
I sit
reclining
into some other part of myself
while
my mouth informs me of
hours old chardonnay
day old kisses
current blossoms of artichoke
and panic
Part of me is not here
seceding from the ache
the tumultuous pit
lilting in and out of
disjointed poetry
persuasive intimacies
stuck in recursive
recoiling
passages of time
while my heart
surges and sinks
near as anything can be
and farther
farther still
I want it to never come
or to never end
I am not sure
I am
at
this moment
so very uncertain

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Scazrelet
Poetry
Free Verse
writing Scazrelet
Life is what you make of it.
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Synopsis
It still lingers.
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