Soft Scrawl

the fickleness

was it passed down 

in the blood?

The cool dew of morning

After the desert felt like needles heated in the kiln

Slicing the stone of the obstinate heart til the floods burst 

Would I have eaten the coolness, mindfully, a prayer of thanks upon

Morning hush lips?

Would I have drank, plunged in the deep waters of gratitude?
What is loyalty?
Remain Loyal—I extract slivers

Of honestly found deception, tongue, ties—my mercy is my weilded weapon, well worn

Remain Loyal—I bind my broken bones

a mortar of love, sutures of forgiveness. Asaph’s words echo in my mind, I think I’ve embroidered them into the warm Ruby of my heart. 
All these things 

In soft scrawl, and silk thread,

I touched the needle to the red—
These words:

“Remain Loyal” bled.

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