Your heart has left,
Been taken elsewhere,
I’m left with a skeleton to touch.
Would time but turn
And unwind backwards,
Would that ask of it too much?
Do gods hear those
Who’ve been wounded,
Who saw the gates of
Heaven close, their
Paradise forsaken,
Souls torn open and
Exposed, the roadkill
Of the angels, who make
Toothpicks of the bones.
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