i am not a girl.
i am forest fire,
i am hurricane -
quick and quiet,
leaving miles
and miles of destruction
in my wake. i am
wilderness trails at
blackened midnight,
hidden pockets and
silence and strangeness,
barren trees looking
more like skeletons
and all the things that
make your heart race.
i am broken fences
and unhinged doors.
i am unmade beds
and unlocked windows.
***** bathtubs and
empty light sockets.
i am heaven and earth
and hell and home, i am
the loss that plagues you
and the trauma that
breaks you and i am the
goddess you yearn for
lurking in the clouds.
i am the disgrace, the fallen
angel that makes you
regret not your last step,
but every single one
you've ever taken. i am
the burn and the rage and
i am the forest fire.
the one that licks at your
door and shatters your window.
the one that takes everything
from you, and yet you
still find yourself in the
quiet wreckage afterwards
whispering thank you.