maelynslavik

If I could weave the memories of you in a giant blanket 

The night sky would appear 

Or maybe the streets of that one city in Central America 

The unspoken words caught in a language barrier

 “It was her fault

She was wearing that skirt

Practically asking for it”

No

No she wasn’t

She was 15 years old

on the night that you broke your eyes open,

cried into candy packets you found at the petrol station smelling like gasoline and regret

in your still-standing baby teeth like slabs of sugared marble there were

I would weave in the tears of a mermaid, the breath of my love, and the drop of the ocean