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if the

demons

claimed

you

while

you

slept

there

would

be

no

one

who stood

and wept

 

#1

I let you cut me

once too often with your blunt

indifferent knives

 

#2

I let you undo

me as easily as a

newly stitched zipper

i’m Circe again:

singing stinging this man’s soul

into it’s true shape.

the bridges you burnt

the lessons not learnt

the ill will you earned

your lonely returned

unkindness you raised

all caught in a haze

your face starts to fade

you forgot-

the demons

always

need to be

repaid

kick you to the kerb.

kick you again until you

bleed for both of us.

all the worst things are

right there inside you, you are

made of water and oil

i want to mark you

with half crescent claw of nail,

declare you are mine

the tide

that drags

me

down,

you spit me

out upside

round,

you haul

and pull

and push

me in,

and then

you let me

spin

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