She began starving long ago
standing alone, frozen from head to toe...
The cold breeze
curled around her...
The night unbraids
my bones...
The colour fades
from her cheeks...
There is something about you
that I begin to slip away...
0- The womb.
In the third week vision becomes clear...
I thought I had
buried the remaining bitterness...
Walls etched in acidic nightmares
coat the outer rim of my mind...
"You have to burn in order to shine"
_ this was a burning moth susurrating...
I stand at my window
and gaze...
It was long ago
and memories now...
butterflies
made a tomb of...