Down the Page

Howlsnow

These letters I never sent
weren’t intended to be journals
chronicling emotions I wished
I’d shown you. The lines that
dripped
down
the
page
were more a from the exertion
spent keeping my wolf
on the tenuous tether
I clutch within.

He ran loose once,
leaving behind hearts
angered, saddened, broken.
Mostly his own.

Some of the wounds he slashed
have healed, leaving scars
as bitter mementoes of the last
howling-blood passion he’d taste.
So I twist together new lines,
fresh bindings, wringing
salty drops out of them
into my open wounds that
bleed
down
the
page.

To you.

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