I bleed you out of me through words

But without once articulating with tongue on teeth.

Like a ragdoll I sat in your toybox too long 

collecting dust

and only missed when you remember that I was used

to make a torch-

soaked in kerosene and lit aflame

for you to find your way in life and its darkness.

I had never wished on shooting stars

and did not believe

in sacred geometry or meaning and philosophy.

I cannot play "he loves me, he loves me not" with a four leaved clover,

But I'll rip you apart with the teeth you filed down.

You ask if I love you or not and I look at you with eyes

like flowers 

without petals

and water bubbles in my lungs from the times I've drowned

for you

and I can only say 

yes yes yes

until I choke.

Be mine to harm and I'll show you that forbidden fruit is always


because we aren't a part of that Bible.

We have our own scrolls in our hearts and we unfurl

them to lick at the words

to guide us and fold them into birds

that take flight with us still pinching

our tongues where they are cut on paper wings.

We'll grow a garden of limbs so that we don't have to always be the same.

I'll show you mine if you show me yours 

is that first challenge that leaves soft aches

in the hips and the whisper

that says theirs will never be like



Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741