Torture me
with your
unremitting
evanescence;
that way
I am reminded
that a bit
of madness
is requisite
to accept
the flaw
of human
endearment—
it will drive
you insane
until you are
brutally shredded
to being
whole again
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?
