can you put your hand
the true one,
the one without the knife,
on my violet heart?
will you feel the sea
remember the storms
the bodies tossed
the souls lost?
green waves are
only sighs now
and a slow fog obscures
sea birds who morn the wind.
the tide doesn't care
since the moon lost her way.
what's left is a past
and a make believe future.
can you carve
a whisper of life into me?
you have the knife.
but is it subtle
enough to give something back
and keen enough to to take the blue?
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