Cut these swollen eyelids;
Blood--isn't that what you prefer?
More so than distant hands
gripping
at unmade bedsheets.
Strip the flesh away,
cut the bonds
until you've had enough
simplicity.
Reconnecting through forgetting.
What was I
but just a conduit.
As you down another bottle to
sink in your happiness.
I can barely claw my way to the neck.
Comments
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Despair and anger resonate. But not rage, just a hurt anger.
A conduit for what?
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"Reconnecting through forgetting."
The thing that connects between cutting bonds and forgetting.
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