that’s not where the story ends.
from transcendental waters,
not yet born, newly born, orphaned.
the forgotten, even the dead.
into whatever lessons they need to learn
the women’s work of weaving
look underneath your pillow,
she has left you treasure
like a little malformed myth
lodged between my heart and my rib cage.
the possible death moment.
Gather near water under the New Moon at night,
cause rain and storms and hail
singing and dancing and swimming
dreams don’t mean a goddamned thing
how we get through our lives.
what’s happening becomes something
this is a story about violence.
keep waiting, feel like a failure.
know what this story was about.
this might be a children’s story
a silken-haired sky goddess who lived in the clouds.
everyone, even the moon, laughing and drunk
witches, fairies, mermaids
her body perfectly balanced
two men laughing and yelling.
stay happily ever after forever
die, spilling out shared waters,
Every story ever told has a breach to it.
writing isn’t quite right,
all the beginnings have endings.
tend to your family and fire well,
shame of a daughter whose body was written
shame of leaving a woman loved.
shame of failed marriages
tell them what is learned.
but that’s not what I heard.
like the lives we’ve lived,
Nobody’s been the same person twice.
hear the world’s stories,
Feel less incarcerated by the world,
remember they are only living the terms of their own fictions,
so their selves don’t unravel.
romaincrisis
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
ellievsbear
izzy806
kianamaiart
baratheonpilled
