heavy-handed

withered tulips, 

naked on my fingertips—

mistakes of taken men,

and badly written metaphors—you

want the least tumultuous—you 

want the one that hurts you more—you

match inconsistencies with the fearlessness of boredom

recently deleted: error on page

what are friendships that exist by a connectedness that I can sever?

inbox: empty

inbox: one message

inbox: empty

I have never mothered something more aggressively than myself,

I have always maliciously dissected and dismembered all who try to walk away,

lately though,

I only cast spells,

the kind that leave me far enough away,

and always close enough to stay

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