The Pharisee.

I loved the letter for good reason,

we often met there.

You would kiss my eyes with your words

and you made them grow wide.

What was my medusa?

I never meant to wander.

But that's the effect of eyes gone cloudy.

My skull began to rattle from the silence

as my lungs ached for a taste of the wind.

I wonder,

Are you willing to exhume me?

Or have you had enough?