police line do not cross
I promise never to be cryptic, to leave haikus in crumbs on the floor; a trail of 5-7-5s leading from the kitchen to the bedroom. Bloodstains at the crime scene will not be clues. If you come home and find my
tongue on the chopping board
heart no longer caged in these ribs
arms sawed off
skin in strips, hanging in the closet
eyes dug out with a hot spoon
Know simply that I prayed and asked never to speak, or love, or touch, or see again. Know simply that I have been a prisoner in this body, and desire nothing more than to be free of it – and to be at peace. Know simply that with my ears intact, I could still hear you, should you bend down, and whisper into these dead ears that I have your forgiveness. Know simply that my prayers have been answered.