It was like dipping my toes in and shivering, then
burrowing them deep into the warm sand.
I visited you before you jumped in
but never released the Shai-Hulud beneath us.
No, not us.
You had very little to do with my pathological lack of passion—it's really not worth thinking
about how lovely you looked that day.
I was naive enough to base the six years since
saving one little piece of myself for that worm—
what fucking worm?
It's not there. It's a myth.
I can't bury something that never existed.
Suddenly every moment I've spent letting my eyes glaze over
and shift inwards
feels hollow.
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