Drag me home by my stretching wrists
To my long lost severed sister
My soul, for I am the unsuccessful lover.
Contorting and thrashing
I ignite underneath you
Smothered in flames I rise,
Spitting out ash.
They whisper, “don’t get too close.”
I laugh.
The quiet impulse to exist
Contains my wild thoughts.
A jar full of butterflies
And you shake them all up.
They’ll turn on the hose
And each take a turn.
I am the daughter of dry lust,
Allow me to burn.