She asked me to stop dreaming of death
I haven’t slept since
I’ve been sat at the beach watching waves
Catch pebbles
Like children clawing at sweets in a theatre
Where the pantomime doesn’t end
But the curtain still drops as a precaution

So I sit in the front row listening
to the murmur I can’t tell if they’re laughing
Or still rehearsing as my fingers drag deep
Into the arms to see
if My blood matches the upholstery setting the scene
For the director to shout ‘once more from the top’
As the house lights dim

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