I woke weepin’
cryin’ out for
my imagined loss
crystal beads
of salted woe
decorate my rose
flushed flesh
which droops
like apologetic
fruit, bruised
by caustic
playground words.
The weepin stops
an' a salt crystal necklace
glimmers in the new sun’s light
like a sailors code
no-one understands.
So I lift myself
out of active sleep
and leave
the bed.
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