Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

Although I am made into me

The orange of crazy
about you, body heat beating
into me. We lie here, two moth-like
stars, emptying recycle bins
into each other’s throats.
See, I keep falling for others,
despite any self-expense: a miracle:
it’s hard to love for anyone, who I am.
This is the only prayer
we are.
GerameeGeramee Hensley is from Cleveland, Ohio. He attends Capital University where he has taught a portion of a creative writing class and is the Co-Editor-in-Chief of the student literary magazine, ReCap. He is also the Managing Editor for the student newspaper, The Chimes. His work has been featured in Souvenir Lit Journal.

Categories: Poetry

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