TW: slight mention of bruises
my paper butterflies
crumple like your eyes when you're hurt
and when my feet remain cold
after hours under the blanket,
i know you are up to something.
the walls of my room
are covered with you
and it takes every fiber of my control
to refrain myself
from burning my house down with myself in it
my lips turn chapped on their own
and my skin parades pretty reds and blues,
i get dressed in the dark
so i can’t see your face
on my body
i am happy and i am secure,
i do not hold my head in my hands,
and i do not tell myself
"you do not exist to others",
my things are only mine, i have turned selfish
i go to my garden
the wet grass stains my breath,
and when i go inside
i fog up the room with disgust,
and mirth.
i thought you would be happy to know that i am happy.
Editor(s): Alisha B., Blenda Y., Uzayer M.
Photo Credits: Unsplash