Love Letter Torn From a Rib
I tore a letter from inside my ribs
not a heart, just the script of your name
written in red ruin and birth fluid.
You were never mine.
You were my plague.
And still I prayed at your shadow.
Every sentence you whispered
became a worm in my lung,
a hymn stuck in the throat of a dying god.
And yet, when the mirror begged me
to choose life or you
I held your rot and kissed it clean.
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