Flightless, yet incessant.
Tethered down, but still crawling.

When I lift my shirt to reveal the void,
it shouldn't even matter what you think.

Keep moving.
Rubble is not an appropriate resting place for a swan.

It's easy to unbutton my ribs
Removing the heart and lungs
takes no effort
But your hands still get lost
There is still no way of
capturing the fairy tale in me
cleanly
within your cat's cradle
No matter how often you try,
the string becomes knotted,
too far gone to be undone

I am happy for those incisions
please, cut me deeper
If you would see me new
you would not see me beautiful

Thank you,
I am now the magic the moon fears

There's a sinkhole where my garden should have been.