When I say, I love you.

I am also saying, Thank you for your fucking grace.

For what is love if not this unswung sword?

Everyday

I hone the blade myself,

release the hilt into your open palm,

point:

here, or

here, or

here.

Knowing you could, but won’t.

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Here is the fenced park. Here is the leash. Here is the bowl of clean water. Here is the key to the house. Here is the family heirloom. Here is the high school yearbook. Here is the scab. Here is the deleted photograph. Here is the unsent message. Here is…

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1.

This is what you make me feel like: not hell, but heaven tipped on its head.

2.

Strangers told you I was the loveliest woman at the bar. You stroked my skin like silk, like a traded thing.

3.

I fainted at the second-to-last stop. Three seconds three minutes…

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remember the apple and the tree. good.

back straight. open chest. PROJECT.
I am the disappointing harvest.
LINE.
I AM THE DISAPPOINTING HARVEST.
good.

where are your props?
where are your props?
where are your props?
one empty pill bottle, one half-eaten meal, one undelivered apology text. good.

reprise the…

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