Writing

I wish I was bigger.

I wish I had a little bit more muscle.

I wish there was more between my skin and my bones,

That my ribs wouldn’t show when I take off my shirt,

That I wasn’t made of tissue paper.
 

Dear Mother, 

I have missed you these past few months. 

Where did you go? 

I see you standing there, torch held high, yet you do not answer my calls. 

A ghost of a father.
An angry mother.
A forbidden best friend.
A suppressed love—
A suppressed identity.

Oh, how strange it is to feel alone,
while surrounded by people.

No friends.
Bitter family.

One of the things that hurts me most

out of everything

is when I see you stressed

frustrated

upset

about things that I agree with too

and you're going through pain

and I don't know how to help

The pen soars

leaps

flies

across the page

dancing against the paper

creating lines

curves

letters

words form

spun from the thin, golden thread of imagination.

The pen twirls

I'll knit you all

Us all

Closer together

So close and so tangled

You're lost in it

In the whispers in your ear

And I'll slip out like a snake

Weaving away from my destruction so I can play in the ashes