your chest is Tokyo

your chest is Tokyo

your chest is Tokyo,
somewhere i’ve never been
holding my hand while you have a dead arm
with a broken watch against your wrist
skyscrapers with flashing freckles
i’m choking on salt water in the flux
i have nothing to say about anyone
all a secret, all a mistake
falling in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same in your arms

View more poems: Unclear

by abluemoth

A poet dwelling in Oregon, taking film photos of friends and making coffee. An admirer of anything that provokes hope.

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