NEPTUNE BURNS

Violent Ends

on the days my mother tells me falling in love is dying by suicide, i count your fingers with the bruises i've left from scraping myself bloody for beautiful boys

one finger for every boy i wanted to hurt me
because mama said boys will hurt you regardless of want
so i might as well learn to want this life
of hiding myself in cupboards of monochromatic shades of gray and paper thin walls
where the little child of five hides in a bathroom wondering why love is called love
when it seems to lead to quiet dinners alone and toys filled with empty promises

on the days when she whispers i am her greatest accomplishment and everything else is meaningless, i trace orion's belt on your chest heaving out sobs of why love cannot be framed in a sky to last eternally there

one star for every bruise i cluttered as a bouquet of bluebells and baby's breath on my thighs
because love is collecting bruises, babygirl
if he brushes your fingers under his shirt you imagine your prince charming is hiding in the shadows
you imagine what five minutes is like in the course of infinity
love is no love
you just grit your teeth and imagine a day when you are enough

on the days she tells me to hide my heart under hers, i shove it till i hear the cracking of ribs crashing into the pit of her chest cavity as the communion of daughter and mother is just two cradled hearts thrumming to a hymn heard by an unknown heathen

each star and finger are stardust
i sometimes wonder what the world would be like without the sun
how can a star be shining when it is dead?
how can a human shine when they have dead stars circling silently still into a catalyst of explosion?
how does mama know a star cut open doesn't shine? - when you are the days the sun slices the stars
the moment when i can almost reach space
but   m i s s
our fingers brushing
a   
      f
          a
             l
                  l

the day mama whispers, "stars and boys crash-land into hearts of black holes and bruised necks with open legs all the time. you are no exception, babygirl, you are the star bleeding dust to save a boy with no wings

no holiness in his dead flesh."

i search the sky
for a boy
with my fingertips
tattooed in a constellation
around his neck

Catalline for inspiring me to write this out. Please check out her wonderful stuff!!! You will never be disappointed :)