It is in prophecy and thus, let it be inked, the gold you mirage in your soul is but a remnant of his touch on you, barren bodied animal, hunched and bloody. soak in the waters, bittered sweetheart, they should claim your breath as they exclaim my sentiment. with swift tugs at the handwritten fables you pen, may the light you seek cloak you in some scathing, some brash revelation you don’t wish for. the mirrors in your home evade you, and to meet your gaze one will have to plunge as low as you clawed your way to be. Be still, lonely girl, be still and fabricate warmth between wet palms. be still, graceless girl, and collect dust.
in your resemblance to a womb-tombed creature, I wish you life outside of the babied pebbles you throw. I wish you life, boulder to mountain, upheaval to rapid descent, forever and ever. I wish you tired arms and tired legs, girl, blushed with guilt and shame.
may your bones splinter like old trees in forgotten forests. may the water warn you.
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