But now shrinks the place where you stand: Where now, stripped by shade, will you go? — Paul Celan

My heart is like an open wound

For M—

My heart is like an open wound
That you dip your fingers into 
And turn them over and over
Until they are covered in my blood and pus

Then you put them in your mouth
And lick till the last drop 
Like a flower
The wound opens up every time you walk past 

Asking to be touched and tasted 

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