• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 08
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Atom for atom

A man once told me that
the beauty of poetry lay

in the ability — although I
think he called it freedom —

to say simple things in poems.
Afterward, I wanted to tell

you how I loved — you —
in simple words.

I couldn't.

I am leaving my heart behind,
placing it in this box,

and putting it beside you.
Do boxes turn to ashes, too?