I wanted to pluck the stars from your eyes
and knead them in my hands 'til I could scatter ashes throughout the earth
or dust sparks across sleeping lovers' violet skies
with warm unrest and discontented hope
that maybe the light could shake their shoulders and open their weary hearts
to be stripped and cleansed and stitched haphazardly together again
but loosely -
all alike in their fragility and so suddenly vulnerable
and each now lost for losing
what they had tethered so meticulously to their vanities
and as I watched them stumble I would dip a hand into the fleeting life of my hourglass
and smear the blood on my doorframe
so that maybe I could sleep
and just as sleep finally found me I'd fish your diamonds from my pocket
and as two seeds I'd plant them in my own eyes to take root and grow
and blossom for the world to see
even if
I may not
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