Poem – On Mixing Macarons and Vicodin (By Layla Lenhardt)
On Mixing Macarons and Vicodin That winter split me like firewood. I was smaller, splintered, Elliot Smith would play on cassette in my blue Volkswagen, while our breath coursed through flared nostrils and damaged lungs. * I hid my pain like a sick dog. I slinked out, under the back deck, I swallowed some pills. In those hideous places I […]
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