In the double-helix of my body there are aisles of heartbreak. Imagine a hurricane warning and people throwing shit on the floor of a local Wal-Mart. The workings of my mother and her mother and her mother's mantra are the leftover chip bags and rotten strawberries on the floors of a city hiding from natural disaster. There are children playing hide and seek in the basement of a suburbia and their laughter hangs in the air like a carcass on a meat hook. While they crawl into crevices covered in dust, I remember dead moths scattered across the floor of my aunt's closet where her wedding dress decays. As the wind picks up speed, I hear the bare footfalls of children running behind palm trees as they watch their mother collapse on the dried up grass. "Daddy isn't staying," the eldest sighs as she leads the children like miniature soldiers into the warzone they call home. And as the hurricane hits like the first anticipated firework, my mother reminds me falling in love is like tenderizing meat – the heavier the mallet hits, the less it hurts when you burn.
For MELTINGSUNS for being an inspiration
YOU ARE READING
NEPTUNE BURNS
Poetryyou once asked why i never felt good enough to love you, this is why All rights reserved ©️2018 immortalitatis- cover by the lovely @hurtcopain
