begin to constantly wear your disguise
crown of thorns dipped in red, dangling
above your head. no trace of purity or
sacrifice. your name will only be shunned
woven together with life’s thread but happier
— apart — and every time you try to achieve
the past slips through fingers like ribbons,
ribbons of water attached to a chemise
locked in infinite pirouettes, strings
constantly unraveling & shimmering in
fading light, after all
stars always burn brightest
before they implode.
