Anger curls.
It twists long fingernails into your hair and sticks everywhere;
It pulses, a second heartbeat.
It’s fast and swirls in waves.
It bites and kicks and scratches-
it needs to.
It rips and shreds and she's not there to be caught-
But it's for her-
It's hers, it needs to hurt her like I do.
She needs to see, too feel
To let it grasp her heart in clenched fists,
to stop that ridiculous grin.
It needs to give her what they have given me-
what she thinks I deserve;
And she needs to hate it.
Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 5:47 PM UTC
It’s only shallow water.
But you can drown all the same.
Am I really drowning though?
or am I holding my own head under
and imagining the hand belongs to someone else.
It’s not that,
but it’s not nothing either.
There’s still water in my airways,
and it drips out my eyes,
out my nose,
down my spine.
I can see it’s sheen on my skin
but it seems that no one else can.
Am I imagining it?
But when it disappears I miss its reminders.
that I’m still there,
four crescent moons in pale flesh,
a comfort.
But they fade,
and I am normal.
I don’t like the pain,
but I need its marks on me.
To prove I didn’t imagine it all,
to stop me from forgetting.
Pen doesn't do the same.
But I try.
Soon it will be moons and teeth.
Maybe if I draw blood it will know,
I need it to stay.
Blood moons.
I'm trying.
I’m not even sure what I’m remembering.
—------------
Another reminder.
I bit,
I drew blood this time.
Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 8:39 AM UTC