the art of falling

i taste of burnt flowers

it is another day

another night

another lonely song playing on repeat in my mind ( mama i am drowning )

but what do i do?

i sit and i stare at the mirror 

but not at myself

no, never myself

what is there to see?

there's nothing inside this body that i can call mine anymore after

after

you took my humanity ( took it from my tongue, my hands, the secret place between my thighs that smells of lavender  ) 

you smashed the puzzles pieces of me together in a way that didn't fit right

you stole the sugar and now the lemonade is sour 

the fire inside me has been quenched

i am soot

i am ash

and i see that the tips of your fingers are still burnt