Week 149.png

There’s a cleft in your heart,
a demarcation of chains
tightened gradually over time.
In a few years you’ll bare your first pearl
because there’s no keeping debris
from a wound that size.

All that time we spent contemplating
altschmerz has not made us weak
habit is, after all, the mother of evolution.
We reiterate and invent,
the same tired dialog
digresses into epiphany
and we are both better
for having known familiarity.

The lattice outside my window
never bore anyone up
and I never dared descend
but it served me well enough
as a reminder that love never dies,
however, often it shifts in execution.

You must not let the poison out
death waits in the periphery
an insidious catalyst,
a necessary and noteworthy cheat.
I am not finished
I have a name and a face
and womb clenched tighter than a sphincter
that means only to suffocate.

I assemble myself around doubt
for nothing ever grew from my expectations
except disappointment.
I’ve held whole oceans back
and in the intermissions-starved for air-
I’ve said terrible things about you
but only ever in my own mind.


2 thoughts on “Wordle #149 “April 3rd, 2017″

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