I Am Beloved and She Is Mine
I see her take embers from cigarettes,
she burns them, hot like ichor and darkness,
I only see the colorless bridge,
so cold, I am so cold.
His face is not a face, I am remembering,
oh god I am remembering.
Red patchy faces,
bubbling, in fitful pieces,
I am all of it,
all of the hot dark storm,
all of her nothingness.
The flowers cannot cry, they cannot sweat
I see them smiling their teeth, petals
they define me
they want the holes in her ears
they want more of her,
they want all of the cigarettes
but they are burned cold.
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