My dearest chickadee,
Take these pearls,
And send them away,
Lay them on a bed in the river
And let them go,
Each petal on my flower
Is shy of staying,
Peeling with each
Tick-tick of my clock
The agony of it all
Is I’m not scared to wither
Into the template of my being
Take these pearls between your hand,
And throw them to the bottom
With each ounce of salt,
They will fall
With each bead of my flesh
Bury me in my satin when I fall
Bought from the oldest shop,
Wrap it between each toe and hand
And lay me down on that bed
With a flower for each finger
That will lay
Waiting for you to take me
Into the swallowing of my existence.