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OUI'AIME


Blood of my blood
I felt it between my thighs— a rush of watery joy, warm and ancient. I lifted my veil, passed two fingers through, and looked. It was red. I laughed— overjoyed, terrified. I do bleed. I did bleed— for four days straight, like an unstitched prayer a leaking truth. A living wound. Open. Unhealed. Unsealed. Mine. And not. A deaf womb hummed inside me, a song with no mouth— just echoes of a purpose never fulfilled. Never preserved. I cry. I bled like the moon too full of silence,

Oui'aime
il y a 4 jours2 min de lecture


The screen between us
Does the screen protect from a missile’s impact? I feel pain in my digits— scrolling, twitching buried in rubble made of pixels. I suffocate. I hear the cries through antennas, see blood running in squares of light. I hear. I see. I know you. I’ve memorized your faces. I’m here– behind this screen. When did witnessing become consumption? I found you between makeup tutorials, a burger ad, a party poster. “The lineup is a killer,” they said. I wonder— what kills? I wish I could

Oui'aime
28 juin2 min de lecture


Care in digits
I never liked sex, but I liked the closeness of it. The fusion of heat, the melting of skin — as one being, deformed and intimately performed in strokes of breath. As one. As all. As none at all. It terrifies me: the scars I may fail to heal. I was never big on texting back. I’m sorry. Texts pile up: "Hey I miss you. Wanna hang out? Let’s grab a drink. How have you been? Oui’aime? I want to see you..." Feelings rush. It’s too much. Feeling. Too many. Words. What to say? I… le

Oui'aime
24 juin1 min de lecture
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