olive yoke
Feliz cumpleaños.
Skin cells I don’t recognize & scents I can only memorize.
Stuck. Wedged between what everyone wants and what I need.
I’d be the stage for your blues. The microphone echos a healing bruise. Many a crowd applauding the vibrations of you, the reflection of your walk lays bare against my chest. An encore brings this country to rest.
If it is the heartbeat of your soul barging for room in the dead of night
I lie vacant.
A silk sheet spreads across the beige carpet.
From wall to wall I ask of you.
Slay me, a knife through my vest. A heartbreak lain to rest, all your anger piercing through my breath.
I’d rather that than just memories of you.
livid badge
stoic sentinel
proven saffron