Tell them I don’t wish to come any closer,
that I don’t care if I never belong,
if there is a sea, however blue,
between the world and me,
that always had a stronger
claim within.
Tell them I understand
the soft cloister of blood,
also that I’ve ceased being
theirs long ago
long before the beat went wrong,
even though the heat
floats like a shawl, crimson.
Tell them I know the name
of each color, the bright ivory
of rage, the satin gold
of greed, the old rose of lust,
but not this one, this one,
however blue, that nothing
can defeat.
Everything has gone
through me tinted with its sheen,
even the soft, silky hands
of my lover, who knows
I recognize well all the things
he sacrificed me for,
only that I could never,
never call them — Mine.

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