Here, beneath the canopy of bright spring light,
I sit where silence imitates gold.
The leaves, writing an odyssey,
whisper of a journey no one planned,
whistling nothingness that rewrote me.
You did not touch my skin,
you tore the veil violently.
A gaze without trace,
a word cut through bone,
all speech whirling, gone.
Ignorance, my tight necklace,
I choked on it.
I needed crushing pain.
The fracture moaned.
You never asked.
I gave you skin, I gave you breath,
I gave you pulse, I gave you death.
In the desert of nonsense
we once passed through,
brushing off Babylon’s dust,
the crushed crown of Nimrud,
splinters in my heart.
A mirror faintly sang:
“You saw, you named, and got it wrong.
Dead, darling, what does it prove
to keep a pulse with nothing to move?
Alone you sit, already overthrown,
still clinging to love’s throne.”




Wonderful
The necklace... Pain turning into something worn that close made my throat go tight in the ugliest little way...