Frozen ground, frigid sky, my skin is parched but my eyes are damp, and the world earns scalloped edges through this prism of water. At your grave crows cackle and dance. What does it mean? What does it mean? Please. Tell me this once, what it means.

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a fed bear is a dead bear, or so the saying goes. i understand it now, as i wander in hunger, having nibbled from your hand, only to have it closed to me. rendered forlorn, i am savage in starvation at the removal of your palm, tame and forgetful- what was the shape of the […]

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take it

it makes no sense- the lack of a moment coupled with urgent needs to speak. i’d tell you each heart ache has its own fingerprint, i’d beg you to forget the words sucked from my lips into the funnel of your ear, and if you reached for my hand i’d let you take it. … […]

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i trace the letters of your name with cold fingers on my thigh in the dark. they are all you left with me.

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there is space now after every breath, the stunning emptiness of freedom, in my rib cage where you used to reside. i feel your absence, and grin until i weep, with each exhalation.

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i let you out at a stoplight, simply rolled down the window and felt you flutter past me like an errant insect or a bad smell that had been trapped. you filtered out of my skin and bones and i wiped a hand over my forehead, rolled the window back up and drove on without […]

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