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Hole
Hole

Hole

A poem about being abandoned at dawn, where the language of care fails and a cigarette burn turns heartbreak into a problem with the security deposit.

year
2025
form
Poem
every day
a hole
burned into the couch
in a rented apartment
reminds me of you
when I couldn’t hold
a cigarette in my hand
shaking more than usual
reading, at dawn,
the messages
in which you abandon me
how euphemistic of me
I am fluent in NVC
I feel, I need, I ask
still
the deposit is probably lost forever
Illustration 1
Illustration 1