i do not know
if you still come here and read me.
it does not matter
i still write for you,
for us, for me.
—if a writer falls in love with you, you will be immortal—
and you are.
i use a god’s name for you
only because i cannot use yours
and it is not the name of a nice god.
no, you are called for the king of the dead
a kidnapper, a rapist.
no, you will not be entombed by my words
as a god
that makes me a goddess.
you will be only an ordinary man.
will you be
a man in my arms
or the man who breaks me?
I haven’t posted a poem in a while. I think this is maybe about a year old. Who knows how that story ends. I sure don’t.