here is where i cut the parts of you from my body. burrowed into the ground with my fingers and dug out the rot. i did not burn. you deserved no pyre.
a few days ago, you approached me outside of class. wouldn't let me pass you without hearing what you had to say. you pointed to your chest. "you'll always be here, you know that," you said, eyes soft.
"how are you?" you asked. i looked at you.
one end of the red string of our fate is wrapped around my tooth. the other, around a knob. answering that question means letting you in
so i slam the door