My shipped heart is ruddering
resistent
try turning around
even though everything is screwed
Let wind carry our sheared,
dead hair
Open the doors, you say,
and sails
In one Godful moment
williwaws could blend us
into bonds
we never held on our own.
I hate white flags
unravelling
stern and bowed
at my parapet.
Letting you in what stronghold
must break?
Holes echo
Your voice misting through cracks
says I miss hearing yours back
I don’t answer
My hands stigmataed in water –
fortified chips in glass
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