beware the sharp love

caution when you feel the temptation to lick the mirrors

press your hands over your face,

do not follow your spine’d heart into the corners of watching your own hands race through pages steaming of your self-worth

avert your soul from the needle pricks and the self portraits of grief, even when you feel closest in wrapping yourself around the knife’s sharpest edges, pressing it on their skin, sheering them and whittling while gathering their shavings into a bell jar

do not speak to the octopus, walk away from it’s nipping beak and the cruel ink

stop combing the hairs, find the softness between the fingertips gouging the wood

throw it away from it’s perch on your neck

loose the pining spindles and

shutter ambition’s growls into the firm oak door.

[artwork by Christine Wu]


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