ain’t no thomas ain’t no plath

What if I could trace your face across a sea?

It’s lines so fine its depth so dark

I would have to call you back to me

Through a door unlocked with single key

contrasting light and following arc

 You grasp my arm I am no longer me

A prison, a cell, a flush of birds set free

A wild wind of night, boats embark

Upon a perilous, knifing sea

You call across the wide abyss to me

I follow your voice to its pectoral mark

a baying wolf beneath a savaged tree

A man will die alone in agony

before the sentinel hark

Of moan and groan, solitary monotony

In the end we see, we see

A whip, a wail, torn face through dark

all that was meant to be

All this done, all done, for me.


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