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A Very Important PSA

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you’re all knotted up inside your skin, you’re a walking war with your casualties seeping through and when there is a lull on the battlefield i want to touch you but ― you are quiet and i am loud noise and residual echoes and a litany of gunfire, left scattered on the  ground, left wondering why you picked me up. ― i have forgotten what you look like without the indents of my fingers remaining.

I take back what you have stolen, and in your languages I announce I am now nameless. My true name is a growl.

Let’s sing something bloody & crying & repeat the chorus until we can smell some pine sap already.

In the end, maybe all I can say is I tried to. I tried to breathe, saved up bandages like skin petals and hanged them on windows to dry. I tried to kiss, strangers who mean nothing until the first tiptoe dance to that one song that may have been played on the moon countless times before it is sent back to the earth. I tried to want, good things, the ones that make me feel lighter than a split-end of hair, like that first line of light seeping through the eyelashes of dawn. I tried to love, myself, more than anyone ever did, more than anyone ever apologize for after leaving. And I am trying to be okay with that. And sometimes that’s the hardest part.