Hatchet

I have always been honest

except for the times when I have to obscure

emotions into lines like these.

The amount of poems I have written

are also the number of times I lied

by fitting half truths into shells

of acceptable excuses.
 

We both know my words are dead

Bodies at the bottom of the lake

Without soul, without ships to anchor with.

They stare back at me, eyes without light

I couldn’t look away from them.
 

Tonight, I let the waters claim another victim.

Flushing blood from veins, disintegrating organs

Into solubles. I bathe into my own essence

Sweat and fragrance carried into ripples

Briefly glistening then disappearing

Preserving a memory.

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