tia daubas

It’s one of those nights where I miss the way you breathe out the stars when you laugh, freckling the sky’s velvet skin with drops of gold. Your lips were the sun which I orbited myself around and your eyes the moons which pulled my tides. The Milky Way that was your skin felt just like Heaven beneath my touch and your lips on mine ignited an incandescent supernova. And as I lay here now I think back to the black hole that collapsed our celestial world. All that we knew died.

Not with a whimper, but with a bang.

—  Tia Daubas

I am what lurks in the dark corners of your conscience,

Flickering through your thoughts

As you walk down an unlit corridor.


I am what makes the hair on your arms rise.

Making your palms sweat

As the sounds from the darkness behind you grow louder.


I am what makes the breath catch in your chest

Like a wild thing caged.

The way your heart beats

As your fingers lift up the skirt of your bed.


Have you let it sink in?

Does your skin feel stretched tight?

Have I consumed you?