There are moments when the rain and my shoulders are at war

and my feet tumble across open graves;

I could never forgive the rain for filling my bones with aching love

or his hands that come from manhood used against God

setting hearts ablaze on glades of spinal chords and eyelash trees.

This is a war, you see.

This love is a never ending war.

I hate the way you stuff the caves of my spiked collar bones with flowers

as if my chest didn’t have enough gardens.

You suffocate the very cells in my small womanly body

the same way tragic moons die when you whisper my name for fun.

I spill my lungs in this fashion for you

I spill my lungs in this fashion for love.

Dying for you has become a necessity- it has become breathing.

You are a reminder of why life ever existed in the first place.

Truths and scars is all you ever wear for makeup

and i could never stand up to that

so i die for you again.

I breath for you again.

my dreary fingers speak again;

tonight my hands are pale, i bleed no more.

-Arizona