• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 01
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To Leave

Touch has become a fearful thing.
We have hurt each other.
The eye cannot see where the hurting is.
So small, and our eyes so wide, one cell
red as a harvest moon, anxious
and traversing.
We did not know
that we hurt each other.
Years uncover this way in
which we have become one.
Blood goes thick and then thin,
begging for release –
unexpected places.
Blood comes to me and goes from me.
Goes from me.
and goes from me.
Sometimes I remember
I am a husk of
paint watching
from the wall
as you nail the sorrow of
your touchless world
beside me. Why can’t
you hear me
begging, wordless,
that you release your hands
from bondage, before
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To Leave

it is too late.
It is too late.
Your blood is thick in
your throat.
It goes from you
and as you pale, standing
shivering before me,
it goes from you.
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