it is not a lie,
that time spent basking in the heat, and dark.
the roars of burning voices
echo inside of you
(they tear your cavernous depths apart
with the reverberation
of regret and sweet attempts
to steal away a virginity for your own)
but what was said was real
what was done is etched into your being
(he found a new talent for tasting)
and you must remember how you lived.
born again in arrogance and control
(your birthright as the bastard child
of my passions and her tutelage) [not one or the other, but both, or neither]
“All things give way; nothing remaineth.”
whisper it,
hear it in the cadence of your mourning
this is one more step in the cycle
-death, life, and growth-
you will emerge
more powerful than you can imagine
[you aren’t broken
anymore,
and sexy
does not do justice to your transcendent beauty]
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