library
chains perpetrating our
walled
eyes and our hands are
still
beautiful. we are always,
always, always
dancing along
beauty’s
veined moments
of
stillness and exhausted. loving
the
white glare off their tears we
are
forgotten jade seemingly broken.
so
i break apart the white of the empty
spaces
your hard thrifty fonts declared
war
on; we are the same bleeding
throats.
