Hedda.

Catch a bullet in my teeth and dress it in silk,

engraving your name along the seam.

Tuck it in your cheek,

ask you to keep

it for a moment more beautiful. 

 

Metal tastes like freedom

on our tongue,

candy coated liberation.

 

Let my name be the last to leave you

and let it bite.

When it does, dare to bite it back,

slowly attack

the way we breathe as one.