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Poetry

Poetry of Pain

By Harsimran Kaur

The Last Time I Saw You Alive Was on St. Valentine's Day

Red.
Beneath the couch, mattress, table, kitchen slab, the Shakespeare guide. 
Irksome lads on a sudden Sunday evening.
Debris. Tired walls of the restaurant.
Dome-inspired heart shapes,
Hollow cards, kisses, hugs, chocolates.

Pink.
Skin to skin, flesh to flesh,
Scattered dreams. A dinner for two. Falling apart.
The last time I saw you alive was on St. Valentine’s Day,
The day of love. Love?

Harsimran Kaur is an author of The Best I Can Do Is to Write My Heart OutI am Perfectly Imperfect, and Clementines on My Poetry Table

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

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