Norazha Paiman
Plato built his cave from shadows—
I lit a fire
just to watch truth blister.
Heraclitus said the river moves.
I stood still.
They named me beloved in the tongue of ash,
draped me in gold spun from promises
no one meant to keep.
I walked through Delphi backwards,
spoke riddles to oracles
In the sink:
a spoon,
a tooth,
three cherries bleeding out.
The faucet drips like it's thinking.
You never struck me.
You never screamed.
You just
didn’t.
The lightbulb burned out.
It smiled with all my teeth
and none of my mercy.
Said: You're not broken.
You're exactly as designed.
I wept.
I peeled back my face
with museum lighting—
pinned each expression
like a rare moth:
grief with violet wings,
lust still twitching.
