The Friend

The Friend

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I knew a girl who deceived herself.

Lies made habit by excuses

and a stubbornness unfathomed.

She would talk and talk

convincing us with her doubt

and we’d give and give until

she emptied us of patience.

Then our gaze became filtered

our hearts, not cold, but closed

as we watched her repeat despair.

A Poem for Tube Strikes and Turbulent Times

A Poem for Tube Strikes and Turbulent Times

The Burning Room

The Burning Room