raw

There are no more ways to feed me.

I wrote you the most beautiful bowl of fruit;

but my words were twisted up in

the flames of your

blue-lip fire:

nodding its heads under

their bodies.

Cooking.

Don’t cry.

We are made up of the same piece of sky.

And I can’t leave, you can’t leave,

we’ve tried; and

we’ve tried to mix up our miseries

and we can’t even do that right.

I will look for you

in the crowd of my personalities.

Hold me, hold us, hold, don’t stop.

You are the vast ocean, but I’m every drop.

Swallowing your anger

is an empty pill that

makes me hungry.

riled and gentle

“someone

has your name

written on a piece of paper.”

camels and jewels.

fornication.

you know.

honey.

it’s not a joke.

you never thought so.

it isn’t funny.

it isn’t the first time

you’ve thrown my scars at me.

flailing limbs.

am i your whore?

treading ground i don’t

belong.

i don’t belong.

maybe we don’t

speak the same language

after all.

don’t categorize me on dusty shelves

with the rest of them;

betrayer.

you can have all my names.

i will carve them

into your fingertips.

and i will still be able

to fly.