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Colors I so love elude me,
I am transparent.
I was the void,
and I held adoration in my chest
before it bore holes like scabies under the skin.
It was hot to bleed the ocean of space,
All over everyone i loved,
wasn’t it?
Cigarettes keep coming back to me.
When my lover sleeps there is nothing to stop them from re-burning
those familiar circles.
How am i supposed to live like this?
An intruder of memories that feel like another’s;
warped scenes of a childhood that couldn’t be mine-
shouldn’t be mine.
When did I lose the color of a house on fire?
I don’t think it matters anymore.
She wonders if it’s worth being the smoke of a gender reveal party if it means all of
us
are waiting for the forest to catch,
and swallow the earth in the familiar.
I don’t phlebotomize it out under searing water any longer,
I beg for it to stop screaming.
It’s just screaming into a new, opaque nightmare,
Where nobody that exists can hear.
Charlotte Isn’t living or dead,
not in the void, with you.
She’s an idea in a brain that is tired of hating itself,
And everything around it.
But she’s sweet and caring.
She thinks about what she says.
She’s full of love and fire, she is tall and confident.
Her lungs are pink and her brain isn’t as dead as it feels.
There is nothing below her,
she is the burned remains of a slaughterhouse and the mushrooms are just
now moving in.
She is a Goddess in her own right, on the precipice of life and death,
growing out of a body that has been rotting for 20 years.
She’s starting to look...
Pink.
I need to love her more than i want to cut myself open.
I allow her to grow out of me lethargically,
and so now my bisection is nearly sedate,
for her, miss Charlotte.