• Dré


We love each other broken, and maybe that’s our curse. I catch my reflection in glassy shards of you, scattered across countless hotel room floors.

Mirrors, relentless reminders of the things we love and can’t stand.

Everything and nothing. Together and alone. Here and there. I can’t be in this body;

Exit stage left when bloodied soles remind me of my inability to make you whole. A wet blanket puts out a fire that was never meant for fighting.

Photo by Resi Kling on Unsplash

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