You will heal but before that you will have to break off your bones one by one and put them all back together.
You will pray and choke on the holy smoke of incenses and burning flesh.
Give your boiled blood as an offering and hope that it's enough.
You will heal, but before that you will learn how to bleed. You will pick at your nails and eat your hair and wonder why your mother named you after a stranger.
You will learn how to lose him before you learn how to love yourself.
You will gamble everything you never had in the hope of getting back everything you've ever lost.
YOU ARE READING
Purple blush
Poetry''Everything you did to me, I remember. Mama, I made it out of your home alive, raised by the voices in my head. '' -Warsan Shire, Extreme girlhood
