(un)titled ode XVIII

she
carved
the outline
of
a door
into
my
breastbone
with
her sharpened
fingernail.

i stared
at it
and
her
in
a
mixture
of
pain and confusion.

she smiled
and
knocked
upon
the
bloody door.

it opened.

my heart
soared
from
my chest
like
an
owl
from
a
snowy perch.

now it is free to go where it will

it
sat
on
her shoulder
nestled itself
in
her
long hair.

i
could not
blame
it
we
knew

it belonged to her.

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