And the darkness
became my
second fluent language
that night.
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I swear to god
that the truth
is not a sin
I paid for.
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It was almost as if
lunar planets
kissed my body with
craters and grooves.
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I traced the lining along
my ballistic skin and;
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boy am I not happy with how
my designer shaped my meager
body.
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I even remember how blissful
it truly was to watch
the phenomenon cascading while,
sticks and stones are
becoming the words
to obliterate my bones.
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I didn’t shed a single
tear, (filthy ******’ liar)
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as reality squeezed the
breath right from my January lungs
this time.
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And dear lord
let me tell you,
watching the problems
have a butterfly effect on
each other is a full serving of
despair with a side--
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of empty threats and denial.
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If I was to cross my theoretical heart
and hope to die,
I’d probably dissaemble my body
but I sure as hell,
won’t break those promises.
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How empty can a girl
become?
It’s not even 8 p.m.
and I already have nothing left
to bleed for.
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And so what if
I told you
the darkness would only speak,
in tongues of
moonlight?
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Because even the
man in the moon
gets lonely(ness) sometimes.
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How lovely
that we are not alone
but yet so
lonely?
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