In all the years
I spend
wondering,
trying,
bleeding,
in the tidal waves
between birth and death,
I realized I should have saved my breath.
I admit,
It came as a shock,
the trip led to fall.
I wasn’t the good girl,
no, never.
You touch the answer,
but you can never
lick it,
pull it,
like the dancer
in my hands.
Tell me honey,
who misunderstands?
Torn apart,
split in half,
by the crimson art
depicted by her heart.
The holy trinity:
depression,
desolation,
desperation,
sewed strongly in my feminity.
– Emmeranne
neonblackdreams 