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shroomdiabolique
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enemies
They have always loved one another cheek to cheek, their golden heads leaned together and conspiring smiles on young, smooth lips. Arm in arm they walk, hip to hip they stand. One cannot love one's reflection though it is there, and if one should hate it, there it still remains.
afraid
When I was eighteen the NKVD came for us And I was eighteen and the floorboards had been in want of polishing and Father, gone for two weeks this is not madness this is such fear All that we do to each other.
decorations
If there had been anything more unnerving and disquieting, she thought that it was the tiny world inside each thin glass-and-plastic fairy-light on the christmas tree. It had seemed like forever, like a lonely little corporate floor level in which someone, if they lived, would do so in pristine isolation for the rest of their days, fashionable and listless, entombed.
brief
There is something fleeting in this moment, beloved. The touch of your lips speaks of brevity, of late evenings and phrases unfinished. (goodnight, ladies, goodnight, fair ladies, goodnight, goodnight)
lodge
There, here, is rough-hewn wood, polished with Danish wax, with elbows There is the warmth of strangers, here are afghans over tired couches. Snow falls, dirty, humane, outside, lingers on cold windowsills.
pile
There is a sort of art amongst the violence of it, the mud and the bodies; as if someone had decided one day to embrace surrealism whilst armed with all the misfortunes of a troubled past, perhaps too many Gothic novels, too much damned thinking- Flanders in the springtime is not a holy place, nor remotely attractive in the year of 1917.
shorthand
He sat down at the writing-desk one morning, and found, much to his dismay, that nothing came to mind. The day was fine; the smooth sunlight slotted through the windowpanes onto clean floorboards, illuminating dust-motes in the air, was warm, but the page remained resolutely, stubbornly blank.
separate
There is a gap between us now like lovers across a river that becomes, gradually, a sea as you bend from me and I from you What, I wonder, is there to lose when in all truth there is comfort in separation A productive quiet a welcome solitude Accustomed to your absence love, like a sickness accustomed to your silence when imagination renders you fonder, kinder you are not present and yet I love you still
duration
At boarding school, Jeremy used to stand with his back against the door of the wardrobe. It had been a heavy, French armoire, the sort that seemed likely to fall over at any given moment- and so he and his roommate, a freckled boy with lean limbs and unruly hair and terrible Arithmetic, had been afraid that the thing would fall on them- crush them flat, or trap them within its yawning mouth of coatrack teeth- whenever they dared to get changed in the mornings or evenings. And so one boy would always stand with their arms braced against the hewn-oak panels while the other rummaged.
apron
A dark-blue affair, speckled with white flowers Rough cloth made smooth by wear, tired seams stains hidden conveniently nevertheless Here we are Here is the kitchen The dust-motes flicker, illuminated by dust
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