“The next time I come over…” you said,
rattling on about something
I don’t remember what
I do recall thinking you’ll never see my home again
I don’t want you here
I cried enough tears for a lifetime
in only a matter of weeks
I see the brief spark, though once brilliant
fizzle out to become an occasional memory
That last phone call with you
drove in the final nail
Skaja Evens is a writer and artist living in Southeast Virginia. She runs It Takes All Kinds, a litzine published by Mōtus Audāx Press. She’s been published in various places, including Spillwords Press, Medusa’s Kitchen, Ink Pantry, Off the Coast, Synchronized Chaos, and Blue Pepper. She can often be found listening to music, considering the impossible, and enjoying her cats’ antics.
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