I am encapsulated in a cocoon of pain,
it runs through my veins –
my blood is oxygenated with sorrow.
I clutch a cigarette between my middle and index fingers,
the only thing I’ve touched so intimately since.
The smoke that trails into my lungs
blackens my insides,
ensuring I no longer have to refer to the darkness inside of myself using a metaphor.

Why should I care for a body I don’t want to inhabit anymore?

I am littered with scars,
from my metal companion –
a friend when I was no longer loved by all.
A fiery soul burned out,
like the cigarette that I wish to be infinite.
But phoenixes resurrect after they burn down in flames
- I always knew I was not human.

Maybe the heat I felt nipping the inside of my skin,
since I was an infantile girl
was preparing me for the flames that have now engulfed me,
making me question:
do I want to live or do I want to die?

But my favourite bed time stories were the ones about
the princesses that saved themselves,
and their animal companions that could bring themselves back to life.

Little did I know I would be both.

Little did I know
I was a princess and a phoenix
all in one.