Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Long Distance Hatred, by K.D.



Seeing your face would be the same as Obama seeing Trump in office.
Hearing you would give me a lump in the back of my throat as if someone had told me bad news.
Smelling you would turn my stomach, reminding me of an odor of a food that once made me sick.
Embracing you would be the equivalent of touching a cold cactus.
Kissing you would be like eating a desert pepper, burning my mouth, leaving me gasping for air, bringing tears to my eyes, because of the thought that I would never do
it again.

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