Artifacts - Poem by A.j. Binash
Smell of her fake diamonds
Dripping with perspiration.
Pink lipstick-around the filters
Of discarded cigarettes.
She threw into my trash.
A Reese’s wrapper
Next to them.
(She enjoyed it like a shot of heroin) .
In my pocket
A poem. I wrote about her.
I will throw that out next.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You