If only I could let you go.
Off my skin.
Out my heart.
I wanted a part of you to reside in my cells.
Forever burning bright like my northern star.
But the cancer grows.
It eats away at all we have.
Now, I must be stronger than Jesus.
And survive being crucified.
By you.
Caught in the tangled weeds of busy nothing.
A mind fraught and frayed in the vines of life.
I wait for god to cut me free.
Yet in my sleepy weariness I hear.
A starlight voice that tickles the back of my neck.
And turns each shake into a shiver.
God whispers.
It’s all an illusion.
Your garden is your own.
And the demons are just voices trying to find a home.
8pm. Half awake.
Sonic ringing in my skull like sonar.
Crash through your words that splinter.
Deadening my star.
Sweeping up my sparks.
Picking the petals of me into nothing.
I curl back into tomorrow.
Soaking in the dew of innocence.
