i swallow the skin of snakes, bowing out of the noose i had created out of pure greed. i down cranberry juice, making ripples in maroon, imagining i had bled myself dry. {replenish}
i lie in a field of pink roses and lilies {they were always my favorite} and pull out lies by the roots, dirt coating the concave space of my collarbones. {tell me if you love me, tell me if you need me}
butterflies stop being symbolic when they are itching and squirming in your skin.
i told you i was temporary.
like low tide to high tide, you don’t see the changes until they’ve blurred together. {too late}
i make meals out of my charcoal spit.