Ghost

I keep thinking about

my legs like dead branches,

pointed in the way they always are,

blood rushing from my body,

saying, “I’ve never felt so attractive,”

with the normal edge to my voice,

and the kiss that followed

when everything was okay again.

(it’s not anymore)

A Body With Holes In It

This rage isn’t for me,

but it’s what I’m most comfortable with.

I can lie here and pretend to be okay

with your sleeping body,

but it’s hard when I can still hear

my voice

leaving my throat and bouncing off of

nothing.

The Songstress

            The first time you say something is always the hardest. Every time after that the impact is a little less. Press your body against the truth, and know that once it has passed through your lips you can no longer control it.

            It feels like pyramids will fall at the sound of these words; they won’t, I promise. They will crush everyone in the room around you, but people are resilient; they will pop back into place and go on ignoring the damage if you let them. You will learn that the sentences that float through your brain are less powerful than you ever could have imagined. They call you and seduce you, but no one else can even hear them.

            Whistle, my love. Whistle until the horses come back. Your conjuring of the past makes everyone uncomfortable; seep into it anyways. Let it fill you and move you and change the way you write. There’s nothing for us here, so let us build something new. We must start by knocking down walls and imagining the house we will live in someday.