reddish strips like poisoned perfume
take hold the vine that
holds this body to
gather the rubble that’s left of
your desolation,
your apprehension?

don’t hold back, don’t hold on – don’t hold
my neck while your voice
is the one strangling.
silent stutters, all but silent
muffled tensions and
muffled resentment.

whisper in my ear, three words I don’t know –
hanging by the thread, that I told you so.

until you’re tugging at the open air, and
letting loose your grip, whisper
in my ear, the words
that will make me

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