as you die in a feverish glory.
the world is not yours for the taking:
you are too young to be broken.
i laugh and watch
as you rearrange your life in circles—
what are you today?
the poet, the madman, or the king?
i hope the bloodstains on the towel
remind you that you are not endless.
i love the curve of your shoulder
and i love
how delicate the human body is.