Brittle Close

whore-changed

worth forgetting

I can’t remember

spray on my face

I’ll kiss your hand

kiss my mouth

 

we can pretend

to stomach rips

tore inside of you

splitting of flesh

 

Savanna of the reverse

the time frame of this heart

makes amends

with this broken sphere

I watch her traverse

the folds of my heart

 

off my shirt

and aim to be

most hated

cold shoulder

all the way

you always

 

I want to die a poem

dissect

wasted

wounded

what the words did

a taste to borrow

you keep

something

you should have hid from

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