I loved you with both hands broken,
offered you oceans cupped in cracked palms,
watched it leak, leak, leak,
through fingers too battered to hold a tide.
I made myself a museum of becoming,
stitched old prayers into the walls,
hung portraits of the selves I killed to be loved,
polished my ribs until they gleamed like pearls,
sewed silk into my voice,
laced...
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