every star in the night sky
wishes to kiss me in gold dust

every rough body of ocean
wishes to wash over me in healing salt

every rose bush, blooming or wilting
wishes for me to tend to their roots

my hands do not falter,
for my golden heart
never runs out of gleaming currency

my voice cuts through the silence,
the dagger in my hand is sheathed
in a white dress and red lipstick

my home, a well-built powerhouse
stands on dark rocks,
overlooking an indigo sea at twilight.

the storm clouds threatened
to pull me into the blue river
and drown me in a mix of cobalt and smoke

i was pushed into the rift
the folds of brine,
so i pulled out my pockets
hoping the last bit of blush pinks
and buttercup yellows
would save me from the patches
of leaden gray

when the Tuscan sunlight trickled through the blinds,
pouring gold specks into the room
and your light hums reverberated into my ear
as we laid in tangled sheets
it dawned on me that
home was never a place —
home was a person.
this is it, i thought
this is home.

the darkness knows all my secrets.
he hands me a cluster of bones from my closet
the ones i've tried to bury
he conducts a séance for the memories
the ones i've tried to smother gone

the darkness knows how deep the storm roars in my chest,
and smiles at the rumble of thunder