“I have a habit of falling in love with souls who have yet to be at peace with their bodies, their minds, their weaknesses. I try to build them, to find the parts in them that are missing in me. I end up with holes in my chest.” -Farah Gabdon
I am a wild horse
With wide eyes of wonder.
I refused to be tamed,
To be smaller, quieter, less real,
I kiss the wind
And it caresses me back.
I have no interest in the weapons you bring;
Unless you intend to use them
Picture source: Spirit Film
I wish for the world to
feel the stability of love
to float and see their body from above.
If only the world knew
means when it is yourself madly loving you.
No more should of, would of.
So many emotions threw
out of mind, heart, thereof
rejected alongside of
personal, internal abuse you outgrew
but open your mind, my dove,
do you not know how much you deserve self-love?
I do not stand by the window and weep as you leave. I do not stand by the sea and reflect on what I’m doing. I do not acknowledge my phone ringing, again.
Grow a pair of ovaries and stop thinking. Start doing.
I clench my toes and feel the sand compress beneath them.
The waves are salt and ice, kissing my ankles.
Have you noticed the way my hands form fists when you ask about the past?
Water on my waist always felt colder than anywhere else. My body tenses but does not stop. I have seen a desert in the water.
Vibrations of bass flirt with the butterflies inside my stomach
I open my mouth and they flutter out, starved from light.
My hand seduces the curves of your knuckles,
But it only takes one voice to disturb the air.
My windpipe warms with spice and fire;
The fire spreads up my neck and explodes from my cheeks.
I taste the rain on my tongue as the flames smoulder-
This blaze is extinguished.
I climb the mountains of bodies littering the floor
And pretend it’s all a game.
Your eyes penetrate my skin; you can see my organs;
You can see my bones; you can see my veins.