out of stars ?

ground into a powder
the many-colored lights
strug about the structure
1,000 curvy flights
between us and you.

yes.  no.
and out again
peeled and not yet ripe

cherry suicide
my shoes at your door
out of stars yet ?

yes.  no.
and out again
peeled and not yet ripe

polish and file and
slick it down
pour blood from my throat
grind into powder
feed it all to you

yes.  no.
and out again
peeled and not yet ripe.
peeled and not yet ripe.



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