By Robert Beveridge


Wrapped in each other’s arms
we each whispered
“I don’t want to leave you”
at the same time

so now, twenty-four hours
and three hundred miles later
I stare at the picture
you pressed into my hand

and try to believe
you’re here beside me
on the couch as I write this


Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise ( and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Collective Unrest, Cough Syrup, and Blood & Bourbon, among others.

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