punching your number into the concrete: a call from rehab (villanelle)

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you breathe in tender dragon smoke–
under the sheets; I'm made of alchemy.
some summer second skin clothes. 

drinking me in a 200 milligram dose, 
a sweet taste in my mouth that forms a cavity
as you breathe in tender, dragon smoke. 

jokingly, you laugh and it rolls into "I'm off the coke."
it hurts, but I guess that now it's your mortality. 
some summer. second skin clothes

that remind me I'm in bed and alone. 
forget it all, radical acceptance, comforting insecurity. 
you breathe. in tender dragon smoke. 

you tell me that you think I've grown.
I smile secretly, my blood is gold. is reality –
some summer, second skin clothes?

feels closer, even though we're on the phone.
to you I hope this is a keychain of me,
some summer second skin clothes. 
you breathe in tender dragon smoke. 




a/n: this is a villanelle i wrote for a poetry class

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