Shadow Boxer

Allison Marie Conway

It’s barely noon and I shouldn’t want the drink but I pour it anyway.

I pace the patio and think about the way my body encases me like a tomb or a Venus flytrap snapped shut around my own beating heart just waiting in quiet desperation for the end. Money and sex and power and the endlessness of days and nights spent searching for an unnamed thing which calls for attention especially when you wish it wouldn’t.

Tinctures and sedatives for the girl who has everything.

I sit and let the sunlight fall along my collar bone, thin and white as a ghost held hostage in between the walls of this one small life. People come and people go, and just like the sweetness of a love gone by, I remember some fondly and others not at all.

I was sketching out some notes just yesterday, trying to get my…

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