• Seneca Basoalto


I think regret, & there—! you are

washed ashore & curdling in my

sight as if you have been missing

the taste of my cradle as much as

I have been missing the taste of

your thumbs

gunpowder & flowers, you are

the boy who lays waste, hurt

but still singing in harmony

wondering what fire is in me

that can afford to be atrophied

underneath you

goodbye to the deadlight in

your eyes that sneaks back

when we are apart, you are

thinking like peppermint &

royalty, lost in childhood &

blood bonds

I think party, & there—! you are

with a throat full of love letters

next to our reflection in a mirror,

you snap a photo no one will see

& kiss my humid mouth as if I am

still thirteen

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