I am thinking of fear,
splayed across the page like blood
but I cannot read you the verses, I trip over my tongue and grin at your eyes, I am weeping.
And all of this for what? To protect my heart that has already leapt out of my chest and ripped off its clothes and said “this ribcage will not contain me!”
then, run free.
So who am I to judge which parts of me need protection? This is what bones are for, and I know in my deepest self that the only true home I know is my skin, my thin aching skin, which tears upon rocks
but holds me
she holds me, she holds me, I’m
Maybe I left the stars to live in this earthbound form to remember how to love again, and I love you long like sister friend, I love you long like I am not scared, I love you long like I know only this language of soft touch on touch on tears.
This is not sad, but something else.
Do we even dare ask?
Slower circles now,
No more nightmares for me,
and I plant greens in my empty ribcage
and forgive my bones for doing what I grew them to do
and remind myself they are there
I cannot protect what has already left me and I am not mother, or somedays even child but always always someone, only sometimes whole but there is enough of me, even if I am sometimes spread thin
I fill myself up with cartilage when I have forgotten muscle stretch,
this is not the end,
only a way to delay the sun.