4

She says,
"I remember the way love
used to glow like glitter on my skin,
before he made his way in.
Now every touch feels like a sin
that could crucify Medusa, Kali, Oshun, Mary.
Bury me in a blue blanket
so their god doesn't know I'm a girl,
cut off my curls,
I want peace when I'm dead."
Her friend knocks at the door,
"it's been three weeks,
don't you think it's time you got out of bed?"
"No.
The ceiling fan still feels like his breath.
I think I need just a couple more days of rest.
Please."
Bruises on her knees from praying to forget.


I'm tired of wanting to float on my back under the stars, alone,
just so my skin will smell of chlorine, just so I'll feel clean.
I'm tired of wanting to skin myself,
just so I can regrow, just so I'll feel clean.