Another Night

You left your
heart at home and
travel the streets by
yourself, followed by the
stares of men three times your
age. You throw up your
hands and fall back on the
asphalt, closing your eyes and
holding your scream muffled by the
palm you can’t fight away. Your eyes
roll back and you fall
You wake up a
few hours later, legs
painted purple. You pick up
whatever’s left of your
clothes and your
dignity and
run home to down a
bottle of pills and perhaps
forget about

Published by

Nic Rasmussen

A Brooklyn-based poet who has a lot of feelings and writes about them quite often.

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