Pandora Man

I made you immortal
With paper and ink
I gave you palms of a healer
And I named you beautiful.
Then one evening
you walked out of the book
like soft light reflecting on tender leaves.
Light must fall through
So that I let; you take my fingertips
Opened me like a treasure box
to see that it was only love that I contained.
Now that you spilled every bit of it
Now that I am empty
Now that you are not back in fiction
Do you too think hope comes after evil has done it works-
always?

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