when we stop loving each other

so intimately that your

body turns into a movie

of which the theatre

resides in my brain

& will have bought the

ticket too long ago

to remember the cost of coming here


will it be worse to

never see your face again

or to see your face but

not have the strength to look you in the eye

because our stare confirms

harsh bright reality when the

lights turn on after the end of

the last old love song that was

still playing in the disco of my mind


I skip,

then press repeat.

By Jitske Wielers

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