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Somewhere between ripe and rotting, I will love me again Wear my flesh like rind and reclaim my sweetness I am not dying yet, but I am not living and I am thirsty For days, dazed and drugged on dirt’s divinity, brown knees Nestled under the willow tree, the sun promises to purify me Before the night swallows it whole, and regurgitates it tomorrow. Somewhere between ripe and rotting, I will shatter my shame Shed my sin, kiss palm to palm and nail a cross above my bed Rid myself of impiety and feel what it feels to be clean. I will walk the veins of the forests and trail the spines of the hills Forage for berries and fall stupidly in love, over and over and over With the art of existence and one day I will mean it when I say I want to live. I want to live. I want to live. I want to live.
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May 10, 2024
May 10, 2024 at 7:20 PM UTC
Between Ripe and Rotting
Somewhere between ripe and rotting, I will love me again Wear my flesh like rind and reclaim my sweetness I am not dying yet, but I am not living and I am thirsty For days, dazed and drugged on dirt’s divinity, brown knees Nestled under the willow tree, the sun promises to purify me Before the night swallows it whole, and regurgitates it tomorrow. Somewhere between ripe and rotting, I will shatter my shame Shed my sin, kiss palm to palm and nail a cross above my bed Rid myself of impiety and feel what it feels to be clean. I will walk the veins of the forests and trail the spines of the hills Forage for berries and fall stupidly in love, over and over and over With the art of existence and one day I will mean it when I say I want to live. I want to live. I want to live. I want to live.
emilydonoher
Written by
21/F/Manchester, UK
May 10, 2024
May 10, 2024 at 7:20 PM UTC
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