Muscle Poems

Revenge of the Heard

By and by a woman who writes love poems to men

I was ready for the funeral completely alone.

Genius level planning.

Yea, I hear angels

In the ooooohs of songs

And nothing anymore, now.

I guess I’m relieved

But there’s not a lot

Of light

In the room

Or noise

Nor does my heart leap

At certain tones,

To descend,

again,

Like the deceased.

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