If loving you too much was a crime
I willingly admit my guilt
And I'm still doing the time
My memories of you
Are the cold steel bars I look through
From the back of my mind.

spaces between thoughts
count for more
when the soul breathes

@journeyofdays

It’s a curious pat on the head
It’s not being bad for a black girl at the age of fifteen
It’s the wrong shade of foundation
It’s trivial
It’s being too scared to call them out, disappearing and saying you left because you were bored
It’s entering the queue for pizza at the end of a night out in Budapest four times because the first three times you were ignored
It’s where you’re really from
Really
It’s just a question

i will cut out
pieces of myself
and set them aside
for you
eat them up,
why don't you?
i hope it tastes nice
me -- bitter poison
in your stomach