les yeux

Don't i wish

i was tiny and small,

that i could fit in the palm of you hand.

curls down my shoulders,

waterfalls you may bathe in.

i hate taking up space

and i wish you could lift me

as easily as a cloud.

im nothing but a memory maze,

the turn of a page.

i used to want to be with you,

i used to want to become one.

now im not so sure;

i've grown up, i've branched out.

the question of my self-loathing versus

my hate for other people

hangs like a vulture overhead;

do i collapse or do i crumble?

i feel like im ripping at the seems,

a razor tearing the stiches

woven so carfeully by time.

my body

is a temple

desecrated by bandits.

les yeux sont vide,

ce que la volonté je?