…good pain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I always thought I was

well-rounded and acquiescent.

My edges have been invisible

for years but limitless is

a fiction like the bilge

of dumbfounded ideas

tattooing the other

parts of me.

 

So I’ll spin tarts

out of their fiction

bake them like I

bake my mind

and genetics daily

hoping the heat

will round me, surround me,

shear the edges away

light me on fire

like she did

in the spotlit hills

music in her eyes

fight and dreams

on her voice

like the waves

I keep thinking of.

 

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