My mothers scent.
Fingernails tickling my spine.
Goose bumps on my lungs.
Breathing was easy with her around.
Hummed in mother daughter tones.
Giggles, sketches, dances.
Those giggles, sketches, dances.
Now I swallow them whole.
Unable to slip a pitch.
For everyone else seems to be swaying in a fog.
Warm, calm, light, careless.
I have put so many rules on myself…
Dry, cold, suffocating, silent
Cracking skin as my teeth yearn to fall out.
When my lids gain weight
They take me to the same building
A scavenger hunt to find you dead.
As I Slowly die and blinded by the lack of you.
Like the last smack that breaks the skin.
Your little girl is still here.
Falling asleep in a bed that isn’t hers.
Too large for one.
Waking up throughout the night
To want to carve it out of me
Until my bones feel too big for my skin
Why do I miss feeling so weak?
Lust. I felt lust. I felt an edge. I felt freedom.
Dance this off of me.
So I don’t have to carve away.
Why can’t I see a mirror and not shutter??
An artist who does self portraits can’t stand her reflection.
Great for the headlines.
Guess it’s time to move onto a new project.
Mind chattered out.