by Mortal Utopia   Oct 24, 2022

and demons. and the things you call treason.
Shine like the wine-glass beacon
of darkness

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.)


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