late evening, and the last hues of sunset tinge the windows
but i am tucked away in darkness.
it is safer here.
i am pressed between closet walls,
clinging to hems and sleeves, pulling on stitches until they unravel,
drinking in the words rising in waves.
crimson stains my teeth. the words i whisper to myself bloom
in my lungs, deep red, a thousand thorns with every breath.
i have let insecurities take root, watered them with willing tears.
i want it to burn. i want every jagged insult
to taste neon yellow of crackling electricity,
to shock myself into action.
i want to fracture shells of selves and doubts
with lightning in my veins. still, i remain empty. still
i shy away from the soft pink that filters through the windows—
you could be better, if you tried
—a promise i am afraid to speak.
i stay complacent. i search for silver-tongued excuses,
stain myself blue, dress myself in the colors i know.
i let the pain numb, knives in sheaths,
and my breaths paint the room grey.

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