Severance Take me by the wrist and pluck my fingers one by one as if they're petals. I won't need them anymore. Nothing they leave on page or canvas performs as loudly as what you could wring from me nightly. Every word or brushstroke, each syllable and mistake, falls like smoke rings in dense fog. Take my face in both hands and turn me until my chest spills merlot across your heart. I won't need it anymore.