there’s jello on the shelf across me the good kind, red like the blood they took this morning devoured - desired - far from me far enough to lose all connection to
what would we be if we bled blue? who am i to say i do not
but blood is red is normal to be such is known and i know i bled red stained across the blanket of stares lost amidst a constant sting of- having to breathe
but as it breeds tied to my veins i realize just how far from normal red blooded people see me as
tub tunes
red was her favorite color for she wanted to know fire burn instead of soak in pools of her own water drowning under layers of- validate
her truth seeps from buried emotion overflowing silent- so no one will know
screaming through forced smiles whispers crawling against her breast burrowing beneath crevices of old wounds
she tells me burning would be better pain hurts less than choking on nothingness
with what is left
it is not apple season. i am not a seed. you are not my keeper.
