I grew up with flecks of gold in my eyes
and diamonds in my roots.
With skin made of marble
we always filled the cracks with holy water,
never letting anyone sneak between them.
My family was built on veneers,
covering up the rot that fell down our family tree
like broken teeth falling from children’s mouths.
So we hid our fears at the bottom
of the disintegrating castle,
built on pillars of sand
and painted blood on our mouths
because our teeth are still chipped.
And all I’ve been finding underneath it all
is layers of peeling skin,
revealing the holes in our bones
and the ghosts lurking between them.