Bumble, I find it quite ironic
that your mascot is a Bee.

Not only have you chosen a mascot
who belongs to a dying species
(good men are also a dying species,
I'm afraid) but you have chosen a mascot
who is known to sting.

Tell me, Bumble, if I am the one
who is being stung does that mean
he will drop dead immediately
after stinging me?

Or is he just a No-Good-Wasp
that will never be held
accountable for his
mistreatment of women?

Shhh.

Stop crying.

Shhhhh!

Better cover that mouth of yours. Or else they’ll hear.

Shush!

The power’s come back on, the darkness can’t  protect you anymore.

Enough!

That’s a good girl. Now, let’s see a smile.

I let myself break like the lines of a poem,
because every break is a continuation
of this wild & beautiful journey.

Every break comes with another grand adventure.

Another chance to try again when the sun rises
(there will always be tomorrow).

Every break comes with the promise of more poetry.

(I suppose I am so fond of parathesis,
because I, too, only exist as an afterthought)

If Medusa took a Xanny,
would the Xanny only sedate Medusa
or would it also sedate the serpents
writhing in her hair?

They can only say they love me
with their fingers crossed behind
their back.

TW: Self-harm
•••
I’ve never looked as good in diamonds
as I have in red. Blood:

a string of pearls around my wrist.
Crimson lace—garter caressing thigh.

Diamonds don’t shine in sorrow
the way steel does.