not all of us are made of stardust
not all of us are gold-breathers, poet-girls, doe eyed boys with soft teeth
I was born with red poppy lips and horns that broke my mother’s poisonous bones. my throat is the wind on the rainy day and I cannot stop the cold or the spring buds. there is a trembling in my hot bones, shaking fingers pressed to parted lips and eyes open too wide
I collect poet’s tongues in a yellow paper envelope with nothing but “empty lungs” written on the back with thick black sharpie
my desk is the space under the sink in the bathroom, the door with the broken lock. it is a burned tile floor with droplets of dried rust blood but it is mine and I will keep both hands on the double-edged sword.
my own teeth are full of the fury of a summer storm, all the wicked power meant for more than this body, meat dripping off the bone. flesh and mind are at war and I am the sole witness to the damage of my vicious honey-bitter soul.
my hands are charcoal, vanilla ice cream in the mouth of an empty-eyed child, vile words on a crisp clean paper.
there are flies on my lips, they can taste my stagnant breath and know that my lungs have been breathing air that wasn’t mine. I can’t get away from the child that used to be me, my decaying name is a shard of glass plunged into my bandaged ribcage every time my mother opens her mouth.
my way out isn’t reading books any more, it is ripping them apart and writing poetry. it is walking in the rain until I can’t feel my arms, burning my tongue on fresh brownies, wearing flowers in the hair that is too long but is mine anyways. it is breathing with bandages and anxiety in every open stall, it is blood and stained glass and permanent markers on my skin. it is the smell of gasoline and the deer who stare at me just out of reach.
I am not a gold-breather, poet girl, I am a doe eyed boy but not with soft teeth. I am sickness, a fever in the brain, a numbness in the body. I am burnt lover letters, a lightning struck tree.
I am judas, kissing jesus not because I was born a traitor but because I want to taste him and neither of us wants to die alone.