light bulbs

she lived a life of vacancy
and filled herself up
with lamp lights and graves
lining sidewalks
of ashtrays with dark edges
she carried watches and pistols
to count the times
she burnt and shot holes: mistakes
shredded blank paper into dust
after taping cracked alder twigs
she collected in jars of stained glass
from the cathedral windows
she threw rocks at
letting her legs fall through gaps
of fishing nets, bird cages
and regrets

she was a cognizant whisper
her world was a secret


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