“Six”

Can you not think about love for just six seconds

And maybe write a poem about something else?

Like maybe one of those ideas you etched

Into your skin with your fingernail

Or scribbled in the margin of your notebook

While you pulled out your hair

With the leftover taste in your mouth

And breathed six slow counts in

And six slow counts out

Just to set the rhythm

Six days out of seven.

– P.B.

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