unravel me to the swell of the moonlight.
from the threads of my lashes i weave my night, perhaps a fishnet bounding the legs. perhaps a veil hindering the breath. perhaps a blanket smothering the dream.
no.
not heavy enough.
there is more of me to spare, the air is ripe and our tears are young. gut my love on a daily. harvest my rest on a nightly. dissemble my consciousness perpetually.
no.
not rough enough.
i am reconstructed as the sun slithers in, a dewy, melted apology filling in space between the limbs. what i lose in mass i replace in volume. grow loudly. this kind of volume.
no.
not sly enough.
one day i will be small enough that i can be made into nothing, and nothing can be made of me.
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 8:20 AM UTC
unravel me to the swell of the moonlight.
from the threads of my lashes i weave my night, perhaps a fishnet bounding the legs. perhaps a veil hindering the breath. perhaps a blanket smothering the dream.
no.
not heavy enough.
there is more of me to spare, the air is ripe and our tears are young. gut my love on a daily. harvest my rest on a nightly. dissemble my consciousness perpetually.
no.
not rough enough.
i am reconstructed as the sun slithers in, a dewy, melted apology filling in space between the limbs. what i lose in mass i replace in volume. grow loudly. this kind of volume.
no.
not sly enough.
one day i will be small enough that i can be made into nothing, and nothing can be made of me.