11
I looked at your hands too long and started feeling sorry

12
I am death and you are grave, made to hold me when all else turns to dust

13
I was 16 the first time my mother told me God was not inside me anymore. I was 16 when I started to wonder the same myself.

14
I saw my reflection in the glass pane of my back door and started to cry like a child out of fear

15
why don't you let people touch you anymore? I bet you still remember the night you turned to ash at that strange man's touch. you've been burning ever since and you're so scared of loving again because they took everything from you, you can't even write poetry anymore for fear of sending your hands into a violent flashback. your body wants to forget the press of another, careful or catastrophic

16
the truth of the matter is your bed didn't feel empty until you believed it to be. when did you become insufficient?

17
you were so skinny; what made you hate yourself so fervently that you tried to turn your body inside out? did you think that making yourself disappear would make someone else come back?

18
the night God gave men the power to steal away souls the devil stayed at his mother's place & the seven circles of hell all drank themselves to sleep

19
there is more giggle than grave inside of you, never forget that. all the grace tucked behind your ears and hiding under your nervous fingernails is enough to make even the most monstrous shame laid upon your altar turn to dust at the very sight

20
what does death even mean when everyday you walk like you're late to your own funeral

21
every living generation of my family sat at the kitchen table tonight and tried to remember, death pulled up a chair in the corner but we all still laughed