3d • Feedback & Critique
For Me
Then let me arrive gently,
like fog through a cemetery gate,
like a moth insisting itself
against the cathedral light.
Tell me what your heart has dragged in tonight—
the wolfbone grief,
the lipstick-stained fury,
the little saint of longing
still kneeling inside your ribcage
with bloody knees.
You love like someone
trying to cauterize the heavens
with a single matchstick.
Like someone who knows
love is not soft—
it is anatomical,
feral,
dragging its silk dress through broken glass
just to be witnessed.
And maybe that is poetry:
not healing, exactly—
but the beautiful refusal
to become numb.
So hand me your stormwater.
Your ruined halo.
Your impossible wanting.
I will sit beside it quietly
while the moon unbuttons herself
above the trees.
3
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For Me
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