I’m an open book
pages in disarray
outnumbered
a spine without a cover
your death stains the edges
head on the blurb
multi-tasking urn
numbing me in my sleep
you’re off the field
I’m an opening in itself
language spread out
ink instead of blood
leaking porcelain
heirloom spilled
you stayed in your boxes
one page of words
the same as always
vengefulness
the spirit distilled
Croque-Melpomene 