Poetry from Brianna Dawn.


a perfect score
cannot be kept
when you lie.
go ahead, try
to hit the bullseye
your eyes will
swerve to every
single corner,
mastering that
sideways glance,
that i-can’t-directly-look-at-you
awkward eye dance,
so your darts miss
and hit the air
because your
stare was careless –
there, and not here

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