when I tried to cry out
against the despoliation
of my trinkets
you "had no time for..."
consideration...
yet returned all
but one, hungry,
I hold,
these jewels in.
my palm, sweetly burning,
inspecting the fragments:
crushed and dulled
as they were,
for hope. Longing...
of slow hands with
your latent fingerprints, and
your teeth marks
marring the face of each
one -disfigured
fractured
torn to the core.
Not that it'd matter to you,
anyways,
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