concave (v. kon-keyv)
1. to allow myself permission to languish into the cavity of my chest and hide
amongst hollow bone.
2. i wonder if i would find myself claustrophobic tucked away in my very own
graveyard.
would the wind still be able to carve its fingers in my throat and steal the
air i thirst for?
3. or would each headstone sunder a new hole into the surface of my
forgiveness of you.
condone (v. kuh n-dohn)
1. to allow you permission to burn my fingers with the embers of your brown
eyes.
what is it about the smell of you that makes the hollow appear a naïve
solution?
2. you soaked me in the fragility of the glass i carried you on while the birds
burrowed in my lungs and kept me from flying.
3. i sunk into the battlefield you felt necessary to glaze across my eyes.
4. i still find myself peeling off a headstone to catch your tears in my casket
so that i may drown instead of you.
collapse (v. kuh-laps)
1. to allow oneself to contrive a disintegration.
2. a pity so many of us find ourselves renouncing our graves to collect the
leaks of your moonlight.
did you think i wouldn’t realize the moon bleeds vindication but weeps for
absolution from those you blind with your own tears?
3. but i will let myself melt back into my own earth, my tears the only ones
that will water my backbone.
4. i will hide amongst the hollow only for my own panic, never again for
yours.
5. i will not condone, i will not concave, i will collapse only to ride the wind
back to my feet.
6. i will no longer catch your moonlight, or surrender my bed so that you
may rest your desperation, because i am no longer a laborer of you.
continue (v. kuh n-tin-yoo)
1. to allow someone permission to share the blanket of my skin as they hug
my bones.
2. i will find someone to trade my moonlight for theirs while they dig
themselves a grave caressing the foot of mine.
3. they will trap my birds in a catacomb labeled now i must breathe.
do you want all of your birds back?
4. and will curve my glass into a bed called smile.
5. i am faced with a battlefield they are glazing against my hands so that
together we can pick it off of my skin.
6. you have no power here.
7. here, you are the cold embers floating away from my fingertips to rest in
someone else’s eyes.
8. i have drained the ink i swallowed from the glass i carried for you.
conquer (v. kong-ker)
1. to allow you to lose rather than to submit to the embrace of your harsh
comfort.
2. i will cleanse myself of the vinegar of your company.
will you too realize you have been sleep walking against hands of those you
suffocated with your flaccid words?
3. and watch the dawn hum a melody i record into my tombstone so that
even your voice is forgotten.
4. i have won, and damn does it feel like freedom.
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