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Poem: 2017-11-15


‘No really, think nothing of it’

You smile, and I brace,
for what must follow.
It’s your usual
inevitable
flurry of kind pain
delivered with love.

You are surgical
in your precision;
striking the places
I’ve unveiled for you
in private spaces
you claim as your own.

It never takes long
as each second ticks
high definition
detailed slow motion
between every tock;
then numbness takes hold.

It doesn’t much hurt
almost euphoric
subtle paper-cuts
rubbed raw with sea-salt
drenched in ethanol
and then ignited…

Satiated you
absorbed in your art
pull back to see and
admire your work
happily stating
“Now, that didn’t hurt…”
I smile, look away

‘No really, think nothing of it’

It is National Novel Writing month – and well I don’t write Novels but I do try to write novel poetry. One a day for November!

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