Sunday, April 17, 2011


Death, you and I
have a bone between us.

You pull and tug
but I would rather snap

than bite down any harder; I am
already unhinged.

Can we talk about this? I do not want to be
a burden, yet you make me

lonely for a dark place; I would rather share your room
for cold company, than be released
from a warmer, less certain embrace.

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