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I have lived longer than the gods originally intended
I am a child inside of a woman’s body
It isn’t a very womanly body, eitherAwkward angles
and angry edgesUncomfortable to hug
More uncomfortable to loveI wish to be a heavy sleeper,
if only to keep my coffin from floating away every nightDead girl walking and dead girl talking
and dead girl rotting in the riverKindred spirits,
we all areExpired fruit
Past dueI don’t wanna be bloated and waterlogged
when they find meSometimes I yearn to cry out,
but would anyone hear me?I believe they might sleep right through it
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I’ve got my mother’s eyes
but I didn’t inherit her threshold for painTo give and give and give
yet still feel undeserving
To love so vastly
for crumbs in return
To birth your third child
while my father read the newspaperHow did you stomach it?
How do you still?She says
I must detach to self-preserve.She says
I must be more careful when speaking.She says
I must always bleed discreetly.She says
A woman’s empathy is not a bottomless well.But where do I put it?
All of this rage that I’m expected to stifle?She says
Why do you insist on asking these questions?
When you know I’ve got no answers that soothe?
Mothers do not console their crying daughters
by telling hopeless truths!She says
No bandage will cover the surface area of this wound.
You must learn to pretend it isn’t needed.
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Nasturtiums , 1892
by Gustave Caillebotte (1848 – 1894) - Private Collection
(Source: artist-caillebotte)
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On another world, as WW I grinds on, a reporter interviews an expert on humans - “In your opinion, Professor Rxrrmt…which will prevail on earth, people or fire?” La Baionnette. November 7, 1918. In the issue titled, “The war seen from other planets.”