By Emily Neuges
you moved like copper
hard-wired,
confident that he could lead the current,
and i watched
the electricity flow.
i’m blendable, soft, tangible,
when it’s convenient i
turn this way and that,
and somehow
i fell in line with your step.
you commanded
with honey, butter, cinnamon bread,
and salmon,
and it was like watching someone through
a window
who finally looked back.
every breath i took,
you exhaled.
you broke the window glass a long time ago
shards spilled on the carpet
inflaming the
erratic, red, boiling blood of my heart,
but you gave me a broom and reassured me
everything can be fixed.
Emily Neuges is a writer and poet born and raised by the sea on the west coast of Florida. She is
currently working on the first draft of her debut novel and can be found over on Twitter
@peachycreamers.
Hot Pot Magazine 