The Chalice Well
(inside of everything is nothing)
Monday, November 11, 2024
Scars
When the sun comes up, it'll tear the sky
Like a razor tears a wrist,
But I'll be safe in bed with you
Where every cut is like a kiss.
Night by night, when quiet comes
I trace the constellations
Of your scars across the empty space
Of flesh in which they're hung.
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