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My heart may crumble
in your hands
like Autumn leaves

but I am a Spring storm in waiting,
ready to drown yours in rain,
until it shrivels up and dies
We dig our graves with our fingernails,
imprinting the memory of the soil to them

to be able to claw our way back out again

when death wraps us around His teeth
and sinks them into our despairing necks,

people ask me;

“did you fight to the death?”

and I blink, not understanding the point
they are trying to make,

or else wondering if they are asking
to see the documented photos of my injuries,

“I would rather die!”
they say,

but I know how desperately
you want to stay alive

when a fist meets your face
and a hand smothers your mouth

and you can’t breathe

and you don’t believe in God,
but you pray anyway

Do. Not. Let. Me. Die. Here.



Death’s jaws will take you,
but you know that soil, now

and you can climb,
dear God girl, you can crawl

inch by inch

into the sunlight
is love like silent stars
shining in a midnight sky
or crying moondust into
a gigantic ocean of pearls

or is it merely veins
twisting and untethering
between two hearts

it is for the skies and oceans to know
but for mere humans to feel
if only green leaves, stayed green
flowers stayed in full bloom
and the autumn of our lives
didn't chase us down
until we tired, and collapsed
into submission

but we must make peace
with the seasons of our lives
for each can heal us
each can free us
each can save us

with rain there is cleansing
with brown leaves, you can crush hate in your hand
with snow, everything becomes pure again

embrace the changing year
before it falls into silence
When the flowers die
our hearts die with them
shrivelled, brittle and cold
winter waiting in slumber
for the next Spring bloom
Damaged girl, they say,
so damaged girl, I act,

don’t touch me,
for my fingers are fire,
and I will not hesitate to burn you to the ground,

don’t love me,
for my heart is a serpent that will
land a poisonous bite in your neck,
and I will not flinch, but look on,

damaged girl,
damaged goods,
unworthy of touch,
unworthy of love,

but do not mistake my tone for self pity,

for I am happy
burning my way through men,
as they have burnt their way through me

revenge is a flame on the flesh of one
who reminds you of your enemy

and a snake bite, in the neck of your abuser
we sighed
so deeply
that the moon
and the stars
and the night
to know our names

our tears stained the ocean
but they were really pearls

to be cherished
in an antique box

our sighs and tears
moving skies and seas

breathing fresh life into
the universe
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