Saturday, February 29, 2020

In the Middle of the Night

If I could paint a portrait of myself
for self-reflection
of depths
the healing pain
the screams
the swollen heart stretchmarked from ocean water
the raw emotions before they're packaged
the burning in the chest
self-mutilations
shatters of dreams
fingers around my neck
my lungs exhaling puffs of fear
sore muscles
ancestral trauma
intestines falling out
clenched jaw that breaks my teeth
breasts residued with milk
and bruises
fat & ketchup,
I would.

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