Linen

Linens hang from me

I stand to rebuild and restore what was lost

The stench of death will stalk me

These pains will ache and swell and ooze

And after the burial has ended

I will emerge

naked, broken, and old

one with the soil stuck to my palms

Maybe

I will master the art of tea,

souffles, and silence

I will go on

♡Saschia

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