do you feel me slipping from your grip
hands on my hip. never learned to let
go softly. dull scissors and rusted knives.
tearing to be torn so abnormally. what
kind of hellish child you were to rip the
heads off barbies. to see inside everything
i hide. oh how those habits brought
you so much folly. kiss me. kiss me. kiss
me. we must never speak of what we've
done. some secrets and lies tied with
bow ties. then to leave you wondering
how i can make sinning look so sweet.
hold on. come back. replace my hands
with your lips. hush. hush. speak only of
the finer things as my mind slips. oblivion
and death are synonymous with sleep. i
think. love was never for keeps. at least
mine isn't (it was in the fine print) at
least that's what my grandmother taught me.
at least that's what her husband taught her.
at least that's all i've ever known. oh no,
oh god. oh my what have i done. i never
wanted you here. the sun is up and you
watch me like a daydream gone on for
too long. out! out ye damned spot! get
out of my skin. i need to rest. eternity is
calling me, but won't let me in.
YOU ARE READING
honey, i'm healing | poetry and prose
Poetry"so, tear and be torn my darling, let the sun see your bones. i promise when you are done you will be anew and beautiful and loved." From the author of "The Diary of Hungry Girls" comes this seven part prelude. Honey, I'm Healing is Haig Moses's col...
