Carrion Kisses

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Molten liquid pulsing

darkness, growing

origami wings, tearing

through walls to reach

you, taste your little

death, so delicate

my tongue among

rotting sockets,

loving the husk

you left me.


Author's Note: I read somewhere that some butterflies feed on remains. That inspired a poem about transforming as though in a chrysalis, only to return to the decay of a dead relationship and keep dissecting it.

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