He

He’s a heartstring serenade
a harp on a grand opry stage
flittering and fluttering
under calloused rage

Dipped in chocolate
he rots in the core
the first taste so sweet
the starving crave more

He’s the dark side of the moon
crescent crescendo midnight rush
Lights the match, burns the city
and doesn’t care too much

Ink in the porous sea of skin
across my chest and bloody ankle bones
scars on my breasts and shins
cast from his heart jarred with jagged stones

Castaway in an angry sea
tossing ships and sails to shore
A boisterous bolt of electricity
light for a second, not any more

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