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May 2019
Wipe your eyes, my baby
Marlboro and shotgun casings
Pound piano keys and feel it in your bones, this fear you’re facing
Because Debussy can’t take away the sound through unsubstantial apartment wall spacing
Of neighbors screaming, growing skill in the use of debasing words
We’re growing sage to burn alongside the memory of heart-breaking firsts
That didn’t bring any fulfillment or remaining seconds and thirds
We are witches, searching for potions to provoke hard spells
To forget these troubles which were heard from the mouthpiece of hell
Our black cats and crooked hats don’t hide the fact
That these highs don’t last
And soon we will remember why we left yesterday’s December behind
Ice crackling softly in window panes becomes enough to remind us why—
These things don’t leave the solitary, unhinged mind
When there’s nothing else to replace what was once chased
On agonizing below-zero winter days
So wipe your eyes, my baby
Wipe your eyes
This won’t heal, not like the bullet wound and cigarette addiction
That you always lose
(And somehow manage to re-find).
Renée
Written by
Renée  21/F
(21/F)   
1.4k
       mila, smallhands and Fawn
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