tw: self harm, blood, death
Things are going to be okay; feathers are falling away, but that only means that they’re clearing out places and space for the new ones.
A collection of flaws (that aren’t really flaws)
I. There are many wooden things in my house, Wooden picture frames sitting atop wooden china cabinets With wooden shelves housing more wooden frames.
Darkness My best kept secret– The world is already full of unstable girls Holding hands with their fears Accepting candy from their doubts Letting lies into their hearts
Margo is just like her mother. Her beauty is dark and holds all of the world’s secrets. Living in the under eye bags right above her puffed cheeks, that you’d think wouldn’t flatter anybody.
1 Our Black Magic I am standing in line for coffee, it is early and the windows are fogged, The morning chill still rattling in my bones when I hear a voice behind me, lowered to a whisper. A girl says, in a tone of disgust- “It can’t be that bad to...
the moon rises to her feet, swollen-bellied
Truth visits me at night, arms laden with nervousness and soft nourishment eyes brimming with more than i deserve.
I am a black girl with scars. They are dark brown and right next to my tattoo. I am not proud of them but I do not abhor them either.
Act 1. She recited her lines like a seasoned musician would strum their guitar. A familiar song, speaking to the audience before her in a melody known only to those with the score.
An apology. All I really wanted was an apology, any sort of acknowledgement that you see what you did wrong to me.