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à la fin

By Caitlin Thomson

Illustration by Isabel Mitchelson

In the end I sleep with men who are not you,

And soon I won’t see your eyes in their faces.

I don’t get lonely ever now we’re through,

even though you linger in thoughts, in traces.

A blink, I chew my gum a little fast.

You smile without your eyes, ask ‘how’ve you been?'

Fixing my heart, you want to sign my cast?

A medical resort but this break is unclean.

I glance at you, can you tell I’m faking it?

Because there’s hard feelings still and drunk on wine

I rage and cry and miss you but I’ll grit

my teeth and swear that, ‘really I’m so fine’.

Our love is ghostly. Touch me, blue and cold.

I ought to blow the candles out like I’m told.

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