It was the quickness
with which you cut me to shreds,
the way I bled ferociously
over the flowerbed of our love
and fed the soil my secrets.
It was the way the regrets
came easier than you did,
and the way that, when the sun opened up
its hairy mouth to sing, I felt
the vague sting of a second thought.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 