me

there’s a tickle in my earduct

itching like a conundrum

button down, natal plum

i am going numb

silent drought an open mouth

thumb gently pushing through my cranium

brain matter in a palm

pink gravel, his eyes travel

fluorescent refrigerator light

picking out this weeks delight

grey, infested, rotting meat

some days

i am nine years old

with a bath towel covered in butterflies,

and my nails smell of acetone

some days

i am nine years old

and my favorite movie is

the little mermaid

an image of my ninth birthday cake is burned into the crevaces of my skull

like a shadow haunting me at night,

sleep paralysis demons

reminding me i am soon to be an adult

i cannot breathe in this body

that is too big,

but also too small for all my emotions

i am afraid i made them all run away

i think they’re hiding behind the

vomit stained white couch,

like my sister and i when we made shelter

nights when there was lightning and

thunder storms

i think she’s braver than me,

because she don’t hurt as much on the outside

so i made her an example for myself

sometimes i wish

that i was my little sister,

(or, every day i wish i were my little sister)

maybe then all my big thoughts would go away,

perhaps i would be a much greater me

i wish i had more time to grow,

water my seeds

take good care of them

buy substaintial soil (incase of bad weather storms)

i know sometimes she hurts inside

i was the teacher of that lesson,

it shows

but i was not destined to be a great child

nor a great soul,

i kept your secrets

and remembered everything

the birthmark on your right shoulder,

rainy days in july and

your mothers favorite color,

that recipe for your signature drink you made every saturday in 2019

and i kept the lights on in my room

in case you came crawling through the window at night because you’re scared

of

the

a mothers missing embrace, a twenty minute bliss captured in a bed with dirty sheets I haven’t gotten around to change