Kait.

View from the top

You did not have to

use my throat as a ladder rung.

Does the view from the top bring you

peace when you look out,

or only when you look down?

Kait.

You can change all the locks

I still slip into your mind

the way a burning building on your block

fills all the houses around it

with the smell of smoke.

Kait.

Nothing ever ends poetically.

It ends and we turn it into poetry.

All that blood was never once beautiful.

It was just red.