for the lost souls

linger through the air

but when i look at you

i know that love can be touched

and hugged, caressed

when i place my hand within yours,

the solidity of love

we as young girls possess

to yearn for our mothers

even when they’ve deprived our bodies

of gentleness

and we’re all empty shells

screaming for them with

the inherent longing

that’s wired into our bodies

to embrace ourselves in the arms of

a fabricated story i tell myself

a person who is inherently bad

shouldn’t deceive herself with the

mere thought of forgiveness

i write this over and over again on my anatomy

sculpting and embedding the words

across my wrists all the way to my thighs

have now turned into a displeasing grey

my smile lines

have now ceased to exist

my mirror doesn’t recognise me anymore

i am drained of all colour

i stare at the person in front of me

trying to catch her eyes

the dark void that seems to surround it

and when she finally catches my gaze

she whispers

all along,

where the air seems heavier and

the walls feel stained with my

hollow cries

i turn to the moon, naked and vulnerable

unmasking all my sorrows

and as she listens,

i let her know that

tomorrow

i’ll be by her side, making sure that

the sky glistens

and my mouth lets out

the smallest screams for help

i realise that even though

everything is disappearing in this moment

i’m going to wake up tomorrow

and repeat the cycle

of my endless drowning

but

it’s my drowning

so i close my eyes

surrounded by individuals

the sound is deafening

yet all that i can concentrate on

is my chest dreadfully pulsating

the abundance of guilt resting inside of me

the immense sadness that comforts me

and above all

i feel the irrepressible urge

to turn around and

ask someone to save me

but

with your hand

enfolded with mine

like an invisible lace was

intertwined within ourselves

incandescently holding us together

under the night sky,

i rip open pieces of my body

as a desperate attempt

to search for the good in me

as always,

i am greeted with inutile

streams of my blood

and fragments of my flesh

she is meagre

i hold my hands to the mirror

she is 8 year old me

she is fading

i stroke her until

she takes her last breath

and i bury her in my garden