a crowded street of strangers
framed in unflattering light and weather.
they will never look better
individual epitomes of perfection
physical embodiments of my prescription
angelic or damaged, saint or sinner,
yet another antibiotic for this sickness
see, i have these demons
that enflame your flaws
irritate your skin and tighten your throat
leaving you with stuttered responses
voids, gaping holes in your body
a highlighter of negativity
moments later there are no strangers
simply rain clouds dissipating
raining tears falling short of their targets
the next morning there’s
a chilling comfort in being alone
when it’s all you’ve ever known
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