you read once that dead women can give birth. ive always felt like i was born in a coffin.
in my pocket is a list of people i wanna write poems about. you ask me why its missing my name.
theres blood on my hands. i say, look at me. ive killed myself. im weightless. you sigh.
i havent eaten in three days. the skin on my chest is turning yellow. you say its the sun in me trying to break through.
i wonder if i should crack my bones open to make way for it.
you read once that dead women can give birth.
ive been writing poems ever since.
