You can
loosen
tighten
cut or
strangle
me with
new ties—
either way,
if it's you
who does it
feel free
to make my
body your
submitting
canvas
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?
