the roman numeral balloons
will soon deflate to meet the floor
of our home and soon you’ll consume
all of me and continue to beg for more
i felt like life would flourish in my skin
your favorite flora in my veins, intertwined
i never think about the end when i begin
but at least sunflowers leave seeds when they
die.

i constantly curb every edge with every fix
anxiety’s muddy boots stomp a hole in my lip
maybe the sting brings me more luminance
stuck in this state and i fear it’s effervescence
addicted to the feeling as the skin rips
my memories are package and wrapped
in scabs and tape made of missing dad
and stamped with wishing for the love i had
between my sister and brother and mother
and shipped amidst thinking they could die
today.