I am burning you, you know...
Brute brunt of a revelationary lance,
the fall strike to a chest without armor.
Bruise, the capillaries bursting,
leaking their precious liquor
into the form and face of a broken flower.
Bones? Unbroken.
No emergency room is equipped for this,
no medicine woman binding busted ribs,
only the faint breath of rosemary
and the farewell kiss of hope.
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