should have been you
my hair was lined with berries and the sun sat at my shoulder and the grasses fixed with silver silken spider webs
your hand hand was on my heartbeat and your voice was dipped in honey and the things you took from me in summer left me pale
then I grew with indiscretion and with morning came expulsion and three seasons hence I killed that which never lived
though its never right for killing and though God will spit in anger it was her or me when it always should have been you