my heart fell from my ribs
and the heavy, dense-packed air,
and into you,
my holy water;
you held me up.
when i couldn’t even lift myself.
please, my love, please
baptise me in your everything.
bind me to a world of sacred religion
where prayer is peace
and you are the god.
…i’ll worship you like water.

you have the voice of an angel.
oh, my love, your eyes:
they are oceans.
and if that is so…
i suppose i must be drowning.
and your black hair draws me in
like the depths of the night
god knows it was made to hold our secrets.
so run away with me now,
your pale skin fading
like a ghost on horseback.
we can be safe.
we can be free.

when my lips are sewn shut by fate
and i can no longer weave my words
in the way i always do,
i’ll tear them till they’re red and raw
unpick every stitch
and twisted knot,
like the ones inside my stomach when my mind is no longer free
and through the blood
that’s seeping into my mouth,
tasting like the pennies i spent
on the pay phone to you,
and dry as the air
from those summer evenings i spent
head out the car window
and thinking of you,
i’ll speak to you
in withered words
and a trembling voice,
begging to be saved
from my endless melancholy
and worshiping your eyes in the sunlight

i sat beside you
speaking of cruelty
and the way your hands move
softly
loudly
burning like fire.

i don’t think i ever truly left the girl i was.
there are still small pieces of her everywhere i look
her scissors under my pillow
and her posters on my walls of the sad music she used to listen to
i think she left her antiseptic cream somewhere
maybe under my bed
or in my closet like another one of the skeletons
and sometimes i’ll replay her playlists
not to become her again but to remember what i lost in her
some precious part of myself
i’m desperately trying to grow back-
rebuilding it
from her eyeliner
and her blood-stained tissues
the marks she left on my body
and the marks she left on my heart
everything she took
and everything she gave