plural in disguise

A prayer held in the tears of heaven

Every drop woven to the wired cellar.

I crawl and I cry and I starve myself

to die to death, to the broken curse of flesh.

I don’t think I’m here by choice.

The tables are round, and my hands are sore.

I touched myself yesterday till I bled.

I hate the feeling of being awake.

Eyes wide open, heart to the wind.

I rip off my clothes and grab the strings

of hair.

I still have on me marks of goodbyes,

promises of paradise,

and kisses unfelt.

You sucked my skin blue and red.

I bruised like a sunset sky,

holy, full, plural in disguise.

Red is the color I weep in.

Red is the hope I have in

me.

Silence prevailed.