zenia

what a treacherous gift and beautiful curse it is to be human. to have this flesh and bone, to breath life into these lungs. to yearn for love, to crave being held, to hold poetry in our veins, and song in our voices.

my tears crystallize a fractal, a snowflake meets the brisk winter air. here they fall, frozen in time, shattering on the pavement, as I disappear.

recoil and slither through the dust left behind  pinching a speck between my fingers hoping they’d come to life  i pity and ponder wondering if i should ignite  what lays here somber  so untouched, unrefined 

it is in my own arms, I find sanctuary.

Lasso me in Before I throw the rope in  And your chokehold loses its grip.