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by Mortal Utopia Oct 24, 2022
and demons. and the things you call treason.
Shine like the wine-glass beacon
you let me make sense of the world
in the way you disassembled it
] more fragile than your rose ungrown and sown
to mine [
into fragments smaller
than hearts. To then
reassemble it, one piece at a time,
once more, thorn by thorn,
into something beautiful
(Without me in it.)