lost

Updated: Mar 6

sometimes,

when it’s cold enough

that the wind bites me,

i wish i could give all the parts of myself away.

the parts that

smell of ash in the winter,

taste like drip in my throat,

look like rapture in my eyes,

feel like loss of my partner,

my family,

myself.


these sensories pollute me

like cigarette smoke in my lungs–

(parliaments,

to be exact)

forgive me father,

i thought you left me,

so i have sinned.

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