Six small shapes line
The inside of my heart shaped
Abyss.
I would call it an *****
But
My twisted view and
Clockwise soul led me in
The wrong direction
Towards darkness that knows
Nothing besides
Theft.
People tell me to
Let it go
As if it was my choice.
As if I tug at my skin
Like bait.
In reality
I tug at my skin
Afraid to feel it resting
On my bones.
This body was not my own
For three years,
I found my life
Laying flat, the
Thin line between
How do you dos, and you
Are better off not knowing me.
Somewhere on the sidelines of
Oregon
My lungs were found in salt.
My body was not my own
For long nights setting fire to the sky,
Before I could not breathe.
There was
Too much smoke.
But I finally have the room to inhale.
I finally have the will to take up space.
And I will not let myself fall apart.