Snakes

I have snakes in my head and they're saying your name.

A den of copperheads who whisper soft my shame.

That I thought you had said my heart was half to blame.

But now that I have read the letters left in flame

I know that you did shed the night which you had laid claim

To my body in bed and my heart in the frame.

I am the fool who had fed from the moans of your game.

Now I listen, full bled, to the snakes you gave to me when you said my name.

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