You tiptoed into my soul without my say so, slinging all these empty glass jars out of my closet and into my rib cage, breaking the siren song of eternal silence against the wall of this slippery, pumping, bloody mess that keeps me alive.
That’s a falsity. You didn’t tiptoe. You brushed your fingers through the sand, dug them into my scalp, kicking up all these embers until I was choking on the smoke of my own madness. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
I don’t know if I should smile ’til you’re on your knees or batter up and swing, let you burn inside my skin or bury you under your audacity to waltz into my heart.
So I’m standing on a doorway, sleeping under a fence, waking in between, drowning in the liminal. Fire dripping off my lips, teeth bared, trying to get a hold on reality. there’s a blurry sign somewhere but I’ve gone blind under the weight of the unknown. patience isn’t my thing, you see.
I am a wild animal, a predator and you’re all alone. I am a wildfire you have asked for but didn’t expect.