i am a secant.
i cut you once;
i came back to do it again.
but said it was alright
and drew hearts with blood.
more anatomically correct.
“i am so sorry”
the sea repeats after me in a monotone.
i asked to be ferried out
but i didn’t have a ticket.
i wasn’t given one.
and stolen tickets weren’t accepted.
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posted February 16, 2013 at 8:12am EST tagged with
well, poetry, poems, areyoureadingthisnow