Unstiched Wound

i let myself be carried away afar

would i rather be burned

than be a sky which seems empty of stars

those very cruel hands

ripped open my chest and saw such unsightly

maybe it was mere ignorance

or could i be more than just the idea of me

the mistress of loneliness always sees

"365 or less and then they leave”

my heart shall be theirs, the loveliest of all thieves.