I have turned my past into stone/on closer look
you'll see dots of dried blood/ sunflowers lie on
the border of my heart which is now ancient/
the words in my epitaph are water for my tongue/
I have made a god with a head of ice and
glowing embers at his feet/and he is
so beautiful/the world stops at the curve of his
lips/I want him to make love to me with
the lights on/I want to make a cathedral out of
him/but my hands show a broken faith/which is
to say that they're pleading/him and I are
floating in zero gravity/and I'm coming
back/moving back/floating back/repetition/refrain/these metaphors are not
your muse/this poem is not at the base of a
bin/this poem is not a glow of art/this poem will
not terrify you/this poem is forgotten in hollows
and echoes/this poem twirls and misses the
last step/this poem sits inside the wall of a closet with a voice too loud/read every
word/look into my eyes/my voice is cracking/my
throat is dry/love me/love me/love me.
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