Flight Cancellation

I cannot rip
this love from my bones.
Thorns puncture fingers
like a skewer
through a dead bird,
I can hear the skin
burst.
But still this flesh
clings in white.
Nails dig deep
to shred the silk
from my arms,
lacerate the lace
from my breasts.
Love
will make me naked.
It asks me to
paint the sky
with my hate.
But I will wait,
until Love changes its mind,
and pulls wings
from my shoulder blades,
splitting the skin with
protruding feather and bone.
I collect sticks and twigs
to build –
not a bonfire.
Although the flames would lick
the inside of my thighs,
the slope of my neck,
like two burning lovers
entwined
in the glowing embers –
No.
I will build a nest,
to call home and fly from.
“Come inside”
they coo,
“It’ll be ok”
they chime.
Ssshhh.
That’s not my name.
My name is stuck,
staccato,
on someone else’s lips,
waiting to be finished.

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