Can I fuck your shit up?
A woman who keeps you
as a placeholder while true love waits—
we kiss, a little bitter,
and burn the candles on the altar of your heart:
tiny wax nubs, drippings
where the light once was.
We return home, as they always do,
revisit ourselves, return renewed—
then ask: what is the matter?
Because the dream we’re offered
is only a slightly bigger cage.
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