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My heart is fine

My heart is fine,
but my skin,
it’s gone.
Don’t know where.
I’m sure I didn’t need it.

Now I am tissue, and sinew, and
I’m finding that it’s
cold.
That my blood congeals,
sticks,
pulls the muscle from the bone.
I am bruised. I am wet paper. My flesh is soft as butter.
Tigers eat of me.
I do not think I am meant to be this way.

So,
I forged a coat of needles,
needles, knives,
razor blades.
It didn’t hurt.

My metal scales protect me. I am a dragon, and the tigers
break
their teeth on me.
I breathe fire, spit acid.

I am a monster.

No one comes near.

I am alone,

a lone

wolf,

moving through the empty trees in winter.

I am cold. I am hungry,
I am starving
for the weight of him.

I do not think I am meant to be this way.

So,
I am a snake. I shed my armor,
and I am soft again.
But iron leaves residue,
in my fingernails,
my teeth.
Spines stick out from my joints.
I bristle with needles.

I am a cactus. A saguaro cactus.
Nobody’s ever a cactus in these things.
They’re always roses, beautiful and thorny and…

But a cactus is green,
and lush,
and alone,
and holds life inside it.


end