Black was first - Nighttime without the prickle of stars Loneliness and hunger and the unwieldy weight of an empty bed.
Black was first And then there was red: Streamlets that blush and flood just beneath my skin, Salmon scars who linger like happy haunts above it The corners of my eyes when I laugh too much and The ridges of my lips when I curse too much I learned to warm myself in the flames of those before me, To bask in Juliet's red red roses and Kepler's Supernova Remnant, the way it is and it isn't.
Black was first And then there was red To fill me up instead.
you spend so much time refining your lies, getting good at pretend that the falling apart is simple, poetic you call it Heartbreak Misery Failure because you know it's much much easier to give in than to not fall apart again
i shook the rain out of my eyelashes peeled back the lids blinked and blinked again - the tree we thought was dead (you know the one, the stringy gray skeleton by the shed) opened her eyes this morning grew mossy felt scales after the storm stretched wide her prickly emerald fingers and yawned