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Unfulfilled Love
Want that keeps its calendar without you.
New Orleans taught you appetite before it taught you outcome — streetcar rhythm in the chest, cobblestone meetings, distance doing its cruel bookkeeping.
Unfulfilled is not a tragedy genre. It is a chorus that keeps billing for a show that closed.
Visions persist like bad jazz — catchy, unresolved, refusing to leave the body when the person does.
Eternal chorus is a lie. Accurate is hungrier.
The streetcar passes without stopping.
JV · Dark Heart Labs