Remember me as these little moments where my true self shines through this disease caking my pores. They’re all I get. These little moments. Shuddering gasps of air, touches of soothing peace and mercy. They’re not enough. They hide behind eternity now, growing farther away. Bare slits in the bag over my soul, leaking until I can see the sun, for a brief reprieve.
And I give them to you. Little notes. Filled to the brim with what my tears can’t communicate. Before I crumple back in on myself, alone and suffocating. I know it’s not enough.
What happens when that’s all I am? Scraps left behind. As the void reaches through my skin, wrapping it’s charred claws round my heart? The silence is breaking me. All these little moments, huddling together in the dark, begging for more.
Just a blip on the screen of the body that was stolen from me. I am running out of time but I’m not the one using it all up.
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.