keepsakes

Who did you hurt?
These bones were ground to dust before
The skin had ruptured.
You can pluck as many petals as you like
After the flower
Has withered and died.
Nothing stings when the spine has shed
It’s smarting vines
And the wishful malice in your eyes
Goes up in smoke.
And if you wish,
Take my soul and wring it dry;
It’s been heavy
Since the start of time.
Feast, you mongrels, on the flesh
Of what you wrought
If it will bring you joy.
Take my breaths in silver spoons
And feed it to the swine.
But know that with my body you will
Take my ache
And what goes twice is
Blessed twice:
Once for love and once
For cruelty.

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