#devotions resurrected

I wish I could sleep like I did. The greedy way I spread myself in a bed, arms and legs splayed. Unafraid of taking space and using it. I used to be unwakeable, heavy weight against my pillow wet with spit. The spellcasting doesn’t help with sleep, the whole world still undimmable.

My body had capacity. My legs kept me awake at night, growing. Bone stops making a way for itself—I am no longer this expanding thing, opening up and towards. What conjure can you make for that. Not needing height but wanting my body to gesture towards some other future.

My body was plastered in black and red freckles, hair like stitching, cracked rivers of skin. This has not changed. These parts still make my body and yet, this body is not my own, held by other’s eyes just enough that sometimes I look at it unacquainted.