soft like silk 

skin pale like milk 

dyed red from your impatience  

“I didn’t mean too”

apologies echoing IOUs 

promises dissolved into to air

you are not tethered to anything 

let alone the weight of your words

the heat of your breath 

finds its way down my neck

giving me goosebumps to incinerate the good I plead I see in you 

we are wired for survival

that’s why my body has been rationing off my willingness to keep going 

physically I am still here 

if you were to call me the voicemail would say

“she is still here but there is no way to tell  - goodbye”

don’t bother putting up the missing person posters 

don’t even fill out the report

he will devour pleas for help with psychological warfare 

strip your sense of worth with one great sweep of his egotistical sword

he’s not very good at reading between the lines

so he’ll paint pictures of his feelings with his hands 

fixing me to the axle using my valse as his canvas

I’m not the muse 

merely used 

to depict propaganda hoping to lead paint seeps into my mind 

silencing my primal instinct to stay alive

I remedy this by holding my arm underwater manifesting the bruise will wash off in the sink 

like stains from magic markers ink

met by the reality of the bright white ceramic 

the motion of the clear water is hypnotic

swimming in silk resembling the Atlantic