AnotherPassenger

if you look closely there is a thin, white scar beneath the line of my jaw. there are rumors that the girl from my (p/l)ast life attempted suicide. in my memory, i hold her truths: slowly, but surely, her wounds healed & much more slowly, much less surely, her flame expired. from the ashes of her pyre, i alight. i am dead & revived. i am death & revision. i am a haunted soul without a grave but i am grateful for the spectre of my younger years & i am proud of who she made me. who i was loves who i am. i am embarrassed to say this: i didn't— not until now.

I only fuck girls who read my skin like a diary. You used to swear you saw poetry carved into my kite-string wrists; the thought of them formed constellations behind your eyelids every time you blinked. I’m not a poet anymore – just a liar with a filthy mouth & a pretty tongue. In my dreams, I let a moon shy girl scorch me with the heat of her fingertips & when I wake, my bed is hollow and empty. I think there is an inferno in your blood, my dear – that must be why your kisses burn. Please, shy moon, please, warm my supernova heart & set fire to these bones. I’m offering 102 degrees of skin from the fe

Lover says, “I wish that I could pluck you from your body.” thin white valleys Lover says, “I wish that I could make a band-aid for your brain.” thick purple hills Lover says, “You build a cage around yourself in body parts; they’re yours so it’s not as gruesome as it sounds.” my flesh, a constant reminder: but it is, but it is, but it is.

the violin, the viola, the cello — they lilt up into major key and i fall flat. the horse hair, kite-string flutters turn my heart into a frenzy — a whirring and stirring of gears. my skin is ticking; it will not stop clicking. my breathing turns accelerando turns to wheezing turns to freezing. my hands are seizing & unfeeling. “calm down” “take it easy” “just breathe” i c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c can’t & it’s displeasing.

i don’t think i’m meant for writing pleasant thoughts. my fingertips are filled with blood & anger & emptiness. i can’t seem to communicate when i’m doing okay because it’s like i don’t feel anything. which is okay, i mean, but it’s just… okay. i hate the depression that my mind is drowning in but at least i am feeling something, i guess. what is it like to be happy? i think i knew once upon a time before i knew what death looked/sounded/smelled like; once upon a time before i wanted it for myself, too.

Darling, you were a band of silver, gold, & sapphires on my bloodstained left hand. Darling, can i still call you Darling? i slid you off & tried to find you a finger that would be a better fit. the only problem is: i have a canyon in my skin & it is shaped just like you.

i was never fond of birthday parties; i much preferred their deaths, delighting in the scent of the tail-end of a wish. for sparks so bright & flames so intense, we flickered out so quickly. i remember every breath of you, every mouth, full of smoke. my heart is on fire & my lungs are inflamed. your hands, they set me ablaze. i never cared for them but you have me craving cigarette after cigarette just to smoke you out. i will suffocate my flame for you. i will fill my fragile lungs until the fumes come rolling from my lips. another year without you has passed & i can smell all 21 of your blown-out candles. you were a wish that was nev

i wish i could tell you how to let go, i. wash your hands in the brine, fall in. ii. let the sea carry your soul farther than you’ve ever been. farther than you’ve ever dreamed. let her leave you on a beach — lonely, sun-dried skin burning like coals. iii. taste the salty air and wet your lips but do not drink. iv. cry. cry until you have no moisture left & you find salt flats on your eyelashes, down your cheeks, and along your throat. v. do not let the saline poison you. vi. dive back in the water & vii. return to the mainland when you are ready. but i haven’t mastered it yet.

if you look closely there is a thin, white scar beneath the line of my jaw. there are rumors that the girl from my (p/l)ast life attempted suicide. in my memory, i hold her truths: slowly, but surely, her wounds healed & much more slowly, much less surely, her flame expired. from the ashes of her pyre, i alight. i am dead & revived. i am death & revision. i am a haunted soul without a grave but i am grateful for the spectre of my younger years & i am proud of who she made me. who i was loves who i am. i am embarrassed to say this: i didn't— not until now.

the violin, the viola, the cello — they lilt up into major key and i fall flat. the horse hair, kite-string flutters turn my heart into a frenzy — a whirring and stirring of gears. my skin is ticking; it will not stop clicking. my breathing turns accelerando turns to wheezing turns to freezing. my hands are seizing & unfeeling. “calm down” “take it easy” “just breathe” i c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c can’t & it’s displeasing.