I want, when I am no longer with you,
to hold more weight in your life
than a handful of sand.

I want the next woman
who touches your skin to feel
a letter of my name
under her fingertips.

Of course,
if you were an earthquake, I’d crumble to dust.
You speak of crevasses we create.
Sometimes, I feel the ground begin
to separate

when you only clear your throat.

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