deepundergroundpoetry.com
CYANOSIS
You draw me in
Collapse, tension
Pneumothorax
Held accountable
Her finger hovers
Extended, glass
Will me into existence
Poised for inheritance
My hands lay frozen
Upon your throat
You know the cold I wore
As it bites your lungs
And blues the nabla
[______ASYSTOLE_______]
Published 17th Oct 2018
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