tosses around her words so she can watch them fall and make a dent in the earth, a dearth. she fills it up with water and prayers but she can never harvest anything except for love. that's where her body comes from - someone else's curves, brimming to the top & exploding  with doves.

if there was ever a volcano that erupted just to shower everyone with petals and pearls, it would be her. a curse she holds to be so tender.


but god, i wish i was her.