a prompt from Chris Miller

her tears were like
acid
on my heart
leaving
etchings of longing
that scarred
the inner ventricle
of daydream.

the rapture of her
gaze
left lines
of burning devotion
down
my spine
as the evolution
of her
seeming revolution
hammered nails
through
the phantasmal miasma
of everyday
lies.

2 thoughts on “a prompt from Chris Miller

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