Lovetic

Once upon a time she let love burrow into her heart.

Like a tic, it fed from her pulse and made her weak

and dizzy and sick with the unrequited strength of it.

So she clutched at someone else’s back to burn

him out of her heart.

He lived by the seaside. The stars were out,

she hadn’t seen them in so long that her face

turned up towards the heavens, her mouth

already curved to smile but there was no Southern Cross

and the moon was backwards anyway.

“Let’s just go to bed,” she said.

In the morning, she smoked her cigarette

and took her coffee outside, alone.

It felt almost like a vacation

But she couldn’t tell the difference between

the sounds of ocean and traffic. And she was cold.

So when she got back, she let him curl

around her heart to keep it warm.