anchored before me
with iron, guilty talons
all blood, no gore
all need, nothing more
than the rasp of a battle cry
or a weakened wisp of a sigh
to hook in the talons
in unsuspecting flesh.
ownership, she claims,
possession via pain.

carrying me
from grace to disgrace,
skin taught on the line
waiting for my final embrace.
she’s been a good guide
for losing your mind,
a good counselor
for the deliriously confined
and all the other things
in you that you’ve denied.

and guilt, it's like that
the way it sinks right in,
tearing the salty skin,
milking scars so thin
small they will be
but forever sore
from the person who took everything
and always wanted more.

from the person who gave everything
and always gave more.

and guilt, it’s like that,
your soul left like carrion
heart blue, all gnawed at
dimensionless in her gravity
a body left lying flat
trying to be the protector
a sorry one at that.

anchored before me,
eyes eerily aglow
it’s time for release
it’s time for her to let go
I struggle beneath her solid wings
with the weight of all she let me know.


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