bond
a cup of tea
at the witching hour
served by a woman
whose word is her
bond . . .
my soul finds
sweet rest
a cup of tea
at the witching hour
served by a woman
whose word is her
bond . . .
my soul finds
sweet rest

cover me in your scented breath,
mythical creature, deem me worthy.
my heart is a cave. land-dwellers are welcome,
there is room for burying one’s soul.
deep in the belly of its darkness, find your imperfections,
find your excuses and fears.
here, in this fading fantasy, let me lure you.
the kettle will hiss, the tea will steep.
I will show you how easy it is to love . . .
isn’t that what you came here for?
to love me, then leave?
cover me in your scented breath,
mythical creature, deem me worthy.
make me bitter.
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