Unrequited

You burn
it to the ground.
Now you want
to worship
before a liar’s pit
of wet ashes.

Your tragic flaw
is not that you ate
dirt as a child.
It’s that you could not stand
the taste,
that it made you sick

for the smell
of melting sand
and scorched dead
man’s fingers.

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2 thoughts on “Unrequited

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