I would bleed into the sky
each drop clamoring to you,
an ocean returning.
the wind will scream
from my lungs
a wild guttural howl
scraping me empty
and ready to receive.
I will burn books, every ashen word
a benediction, ink combusting
to carry my need.
fists will beat upon rocks
until there is no distinction.
the silence of thunder
begging
I will prove my devotion
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