Decluttering my room
and my rib cages
and I am finding dead butterfly carcasses
and secret lovers
and a lot of friendship
and I light a lot of candles
I let the hot wick swim in its own tears
Until the jello of a goodbye hits me hard
Realize the scent of a temporary comfort is leaving me
Drifting towards ceiling panels and leaving smoke as an exit
No where close to an open window
Just a couple of lungs
and they're drowning themselves in their own tears
Until the jello of their goodbyes can't stand to take a breath anymore
And everything in your rib cages turn into the ash of the butterfly carcasses
You see
I burn candles for a temporary comfort
and I am trying to seek company in the open space of the room
in my rib cages
After letting go and throwing out the butterfly carcasses
you are left with just ash in your lungs
and when you lay yourself to bed
your exhales will set the ceiling panels on fire
and the sore spots behind your eyelashes will scotch a certain scar into your dreams
and you will remember how badly you wanted to breathe while your feet buried themselves in the ashes of mellow goodbyes
***
don't you remember that butterflies taste with their feet?
No comments:
Post a Comment