This room, a void, its too hot
Its too cold, layers on and off
Sweat shivers out my pores
Now i'm open to the black
Black lace black hair black air, even
Not pressing down but
congealing
Around me
Like tar, ******* further into the pit
I could probably climb out
Limbs clutching, tugging, struggling at
that black.
Endless black.
Heart aches, mind races, it chases and
Hunts me, gathers me, sees me
Me
For what I am,
for what I always will be
A cold blooded, hot skinned star
Stuck in the spaces between the dark.

My kitchen is lost of rosemary scent
There is no lemon left to cleanse your tongue of my flesh
Sweet fruit has left a bitter breath
When did your stomach have its fill of me?

I have been devoured by you before
But it looks nothing like me in your mirror
A reflection arguing against my digestion
I lay still as you consumed my suggestion

I think you may have misunderstood me when I said
"You are what you eat"
My flavour was not yours to beat me with

Familiar sights accompanied by silence
yet my footsteps are louder than before
Do I run from this
Or embrace it?

I sit on my bench
as i have done a thousand times
looking to the shape of the clouds for guidance
they tell me what i already know

I am alone, finally and completely
alone
No one will cradle my sorrows
or bask in my joys

Is it strange then, to feel the same as before?

A breeze through an open window
Afternoon light falls between the curtains
Shivering craves the warmth of the sun

It doesn't reach
It never reaches

Am I too far down to hear its song?
Or does it just call in a faint voice
on that breeze, in that light?

As I listen I remind myself of red hair, blue eyes.
And like the words carved into her wrist
I will continue.

Do I crave her skin as flesh or cotton
Do I taste her like wine
or vinegar

How do I devour one meant to be savoured?

Her heaviness should be light on my chest
My light felt heavy on her beast

How do I hold one meant to be weightless?

No noise is quiet enough but the silence is deafening

Sleep doesn't come easy when exhaustion is common

How is my skin both too tight and too loose?

You would think, as we move in tune with our planet, that it would be easy to keep our balance.

I've never felt less stable on a flat surface.

My clay was hardened too early
Blood tainted with oil and slick
If God made me in his image
Why craft a sinner

If not to expose the hole shaped like me between his stars
The space that doesn't fit a righteous hand

A shell to remind himself that not all gaps are unholy
My pride fills the spaces on shelves burdened with forgotten importance

There is a space for me in his image
He did not make me to be quiet
But silently I fill the void
As intended