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To come to terms with my own body, stop trying to tear myself up- confront the beast I made of me.
Turn away from prayer and toward a crooked night; allow my hands to build, my feet to dance.
The heart pumping sounds like slicing melons weak in the bowl; holding your tongue out for drops of sun.
I’ve been dining on stars and singing with the stones- I hated those burning nights, I, with these lies.
I wish I could wipe away daylight, spitting the words into your mouth; words you’d only get away with in an unread book.
With a mouthful of dirt and muted mud, love does not deserve it- I remember when I swore to God I couldn’t live through this.
Baby, I’ll bring you out of your body, you’ll outlive it anyways; I am used to a life on the run and I don’t want to die with my eyes closed.
Written by: Chloë Rain
Edited by: Ana Caicedo
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