you said you didn’t like poets who wrote about the moon
you said

cherries are better than red lipstick
rotten fruit isn’t poetic
the sky lives in your purple bruises

you said
paint yourself with magenta, don’t wash your hair
with the same raw shampoo, it’ll make you think you’re the
same person you were when
he left you

you said
tell someone about the time you threw up cake at
your 14th birthday
party, the one where Anna wore a
yellow dress and your mother called her
more beautiful

when someone writes like they’re on drugs,
you said
fuck them hard to Mozart’s No. 6 and tell
them you think you see constellation in
their eyes and sadness in their broken soul

you said when you feel the holes in
your black heart, you have to smile and think
this is it

is it
this is what it’s like to feel tortured

how morbid

but you said, then find someone who is
willing to spill themselves into your swollen emptiness

you said,
stop waiting for someone to electrocute your spine,
to linger on your scars like burning alcohol, to bleed
into your mouth their wet tongues

instead, you said,
electrocute them
linger and then you said,


confessions from my alcoholic mother  (via irynka)