**tw's: death, insects**
the sky is so dark you could fall
into it if you wander mindlessly, even
in the mornings
you wake, your fingers cold—touching
death as you slept. always just touching.
the fingers too weak to grasp a hold. until
the day they do—the day so many things shake. then, & now
i want you to stare at me with your eyes shut,
let's revisit those fingernail shaped apologies
together, later
winter kills the insects, or sends them underground
here i go, burrowing & there you are alongside me,
going deeper & making sure i watch. oh, i do,
i stare, with my eyes shut,
the way god wanted me to. you wander
mindlessly about what you could or
could not say. today
i don't want you anywhere near me. tomorrow
it might not be the same. i switch
my thoughts over whilst i can—
maybe this will be the day i
lay you to rest. i just need you to tell
me you put me down long ago,
maybe it was summer & maybe it was not
cold, like it is today. i apologise to
myself until my palms are sore. & so many
things, they shake.
YOU ARE READING
body work
Poesía**for fans of plath, anne sexton & ocean vuong** 'body work' is a captivating collection of poetry that delves into the depths of human experiences, exploring the intricate relationship between the physical body & the emotional & spiritual realms. w...
