I pulled back the skin around my cuticles like a banana
I kept going until my shell had shed 

This has not been a cacoon
This has been hell
I've painted it on everyday 

No one can see my rotten core 
Bruised 
It was just sugar 
I had let myself decompose 

So if you were to devour me
I would leave a bad taste in your mouth

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I wonder how small I can make myself
Just to fit into your world 
How can I shrink?

What potion did Alice use? 
Should I duck tape my mouth closed?
Measure my waist line with fishing wire
Cut myself into quarters

Still to think I am too big for you
Too much muchness 
Too "I see you"
Too talk back 
Too flame 
Not enough moth 

Too transparent 
See through 
How many half truths c...

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I got on my knees
I begged a god that's dead for peace
I cleaned every countertop you touched with bleach

I clipped my nails
Washed my hair with sulfate-free shampoo
Ate kale
Moisturized
Removed all traces of you
All the gifts
Tape-measured my waistline
Deleted you from my Netflix

I ran in the mornings
Recorded my pace
I held my breath for four seconds
Exhaled for eight
Went to ...

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I sipped my coffee in the morning,
I stared at him
He stared at his phone
I stared off into space

Have you ever looked at your lover and thought he looks kind of familiar?
Have you sat in silence too tired to talk because if you dare speak it will turn into war?
Ever wondered who he actually is when you hear him on the phone at night?
Have you ever looked at him and realized
why your hea...

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There is something particularly unnerving

when we exist in 2 places at once

I find it incredibly discerning

we shapeshift to align with our lies

we keep our name and composure

we walk with our little heads high, 

but behind us is a trail of bodies

of those we sacrificed to live this life. 

They were suffocated by screams

we could have easily heard 

but they were ...

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I am not fruit ripe for the picking, 

my indigestible flesh is an alter

I will worship life by 

before I ever let Adam take a bite.

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"It's a boy." Cool. I love men.
His hands were so tiny.
Got me thinking about the cycle they talk about in The Lion King,
How something dies and becomes grass, and you can't outrun the past
Everything becomes nothing and yet stays something
I saw his little hands were opening and closing.
Yours were cold and rigid, blue, and not moving

There was life and death and life again
There were t...

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