I
fell
(again)
into
a
deep
chasm
and begin
to notice
as I fall
my muses
whispering
dryly
I hear them
warning me
of you
as a mistake—
one
that the very sound
of your first name
is as dreadful
as loving you
except that
it is a mistake
I will gladly
make
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoetryI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
