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Red Flags

Updated: Aug 22, 2022

a poem by Beau Boka-Batesa
illustrated by Victoria Berisot

with our bodies worn out from swaying,
i’m tired.
your words mean fuck all,
like a crayon would rub off on paper

all my pains lie before you
you’re the bane of my life
and my happiness
all wrapped up, the cruel gift
of the infatuation between us

i didn’t intend for us to end things like this,
who/what we were
but you’re my headache and my paracetamol,
yet your name continues to ring alarms in my head
and i’m getting sick of it

it seems as though we’re no longer compatible
you were a Sagitarrius,
and I have standards

French version translated by Beau Boka-Batesa and edited by Marie Guéziec :
De nos corps usés par la balance
Je suis lassé.e
Tes mots n’ont plus de sens
Comme le crayon gomme le papier

Toute ma peine étalée devant toi
Tu es le fléau de ma vie
Et mon bonheur
Tout empaqueté, le cadeau cruel
De notre amourette partagée

Je ne voulais pas y mettre fin ainsi
À ce que nous étions
Mais tu es ma migraine et mon paracétamol
Ton nom retentit comme une alarme dans ma tête
Et je commence à en avoir assez

Il semble que nous ne soyons plus compatibles
Tu étais Sagittaire
Et j’ai des principes.
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