Anything

If I was never anything,
I’d be the shiver on your skin
As you dipped your fingers in
This river of emotion
Moating circles in the depths
Of your decisions.

If I was never anything,
I’d be the ridges of your strings,
Tied to the edges of your pretty things,
Wrapped up together
Fated to be packed up
Forever.

If I was never anything,
I’d be the flat side of a kitchen blade
Slipped into your ribs to restrict the ache
That gripped your differences
As your lips spoke of distances
Dyed in blood colors and hate.

But I will always be
anything
You ever need.
And so the kitchen blade
is obsolete.

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2 thoughts on “Anything”

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