inequity

July 09, 2017 Candace Morris 0 Comments



Little pink flip flops
Big green oxygen machines

New Prada sunglasses
Pirate eye patches

I have so much to tell you when you return to yourself.

I bought some lilies to plant
I weeded the dogwood bed
I signed up for a writing class
The raspberries you transplanted are bearing
The weird plant I didn't know what it was? It's fushia! Kelly, it's fucking fushia.



You're having trouble breathing
My lungs burn with my own breath
How dare it continue in plenty when you feel it in scarcity.
So I make it share.
I grab the deepestgoddamned breath I can
And exhale in your direction. A galeforce of life.
In those moments, am I breathing for you?

I have this desire to dip my fingers into claymud
Wipe black stripes on my cheeks
Approach the darkness as one of its own
war paint sacred
self-adornment

We all feel so shitty unless we are in your physical presence. We are disembodied until you somehow reunite ourselves with our own souls. What sorcery is this? You, always magic AF.

Oh how desperately I ache to take you away with me when I leave your house. To go west, to the salt water. To go shopping, to walk around the plant nursery, to have you stand at my counter and chop strawberries. Oh how guilty I feel to walk into my home and feel so safe when you are so scared.

Stand up.
Stand up.
Stand up.
Stand up.


Summer, meet cancer.
Cancer meet Life.



You Might Also Like

0 comments: