There are roses in my veins,
clouds in my lungs,
my bones are made of stone.
Honey drips from my tongue
with every word I speak
there are ashes on the floor.
My eyelids flutter like the wings of a butterfly
and I realize
I am drowning.
This art I have become is imploding
I am smothering myself from the inside out.
The fire within me has extinguished
but I burn everything I touch.
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 12:51 AM UTC
There are roses in my veins,
clouds in my lungs,
my bones are made of stone.
Honey drips from my tongue
with every word I speak
there are ashes on the floor.
My eyelids flutter like the wings of a butterfly
and I realize
I am drowning.
This art I have become is imploding
I am smothering myself from the inside out.
The fire within me has extinguished
but I burn everything I touch.
originally written on 1.5.19
