Writings

Unravel me, Book, have me undone.
Leave me in weepings and cherry stems
that have knotted and been swallowed.
Tell me goodnight, tell me it’s over,
shatter my heart upon the final page;
have me be abandoned by lovers,
curled into the wane flower of winter,
instruct my body that it shall be dead with age.
Present your cruel endings, present
your harshest truths, say to me I’ve failed,
slay me with a dream crushed.
Undo me, Book, with an internal bleed,
with a seed in my eye set to spike,
and show me the most unkindly things.

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