do you ever lie awake and think about how I want to meet you in every place I've ever loved is the perfect antithesis of a runaway from everywhere she'd ever been? do you ever look up, and name the birds, the flowers, the storm? have you, kneeling, bathed in the flames reflected in her eyes? think: she was like someone you’d always known?
do you consider how a circle can be a Möbius strip can be a confession and also a compulsion? how her hunger will always snatch her down, bitter as pomegranate seeds? how the play will always be a tragedy, her death the same across all strands?
will you, afterward, ride the Underground on endless loop?
pierce a wall built to kill you, in search of a better ending?
will you shout into the crucible dark, I’m coming—
and believe, this time—
this time, it will be different?
when you win, crimson flower,
will you stand alone?