shepherd, you are the deepest mines and the tallest of the hills young girl, you hold the world’s eyes and all the world’s ills and curiosity is deadly, it’s the poison in the pills so your eternal peace shall rest upon the roses and the daffodils shepherd, you are the brightest moon and the darkest of the skies young girl, you hold the world’s heart and all the world’s lies and love, she’s fickle and she’s cruel, but she still tries to sympathize so you surround yourself with paramours who give you reason to arise and would you rather live for honesty or for deceit? and would you gather what is yours or would you let it be? and would you break your lover’s heart or would you set her free? shepherd, you are the deepest mines and the tallest of the hills young girl, you hold the world’s eyes and all the world’s ills

your touch so much more tender in the dark because it’s easier to hide your shame in wandering fingers and gentle teeth and eyes that are open but cannot see your body is a fortress and he is a battering ram it’s hard to keep quiet so he covers your lips with a burning hand and you always do it like dogs ‘cause his face isn’t one you can stand then he pulls off the rubber and you put on your clothes and you drive away as fast as you can misery loves company, but only for a night you tell yourself that everything will be alright your faith so much more fragile in the dark because it’s easier to break your vow with sideways glances and shallow breath and knees that give out under your body with each little death you know that you’re being so cruel when you wordlessly show him the door but you can’t keep your hands clean and you’re tired of this scene so you try not to care that you’re leaving him sore but the wreckage is scattered all over your room reminders you cannot ignore so you sweep all the memories under your bed and you swear you won’t see him no more misery loves company, but only for a night you tell yourself that everything will be alright you break your own heart and you leave it out to dry

cut through the ribbon, your knife was slow and obstinate in hospital waiting rooms, picking your way through bassinets and you couldn’t find the right one, you couldn’t find the one that was the color of your blood you couldn’t find your baby in that maze of hazy incandescent lights cut from the same cloth, the child you lost and the child you stole from his mother’s arms she screamed and pointed but you were long gone you couldn’t be a mother, you couldn’t be the next best thing even though you tried you couldn’t be a killer but you could neglect the proof of your failures and now on the knife’s edge you live, waiting for your time you could you find your heart and you could breathe it in or you could let it die ‘cause you don’t want to stay but you don’t want to leave ‘cause you’ve found a bloody comfort in instability so you could carry on or you could dig your grave and lay yourself to rest with the child that you made pull back the curtain, you cross your heart and hope to find a premonition clawing at your window, take it inside and give it some water you couldn’t break your promise - you couldn’t leave that wretched thing out in the cold to die you couldn’t be a savior but you could pretend that everything would be alright and now on the knife’s edge you live, waiting for your time you could you find your heart and you could breathe it in or you could let it lie ‘cause you don’t want to stay but you don’t want to leave ‘cause you’ve found a bloody comfort in instability so you could carry on or you could dig your grave and lay yourself to rest with the child that you named your world has cracked right open beneath your feet and the rubble and the ruins are all you can see ‘cause there’s fog in your eyes and a translucency and the signal from the microwave is cutting out the feed and you could leave it, leave it, leave it, leave it, leave it alone or you could beat it, beat it, beat it, you could turn it stone or you could smash it, break it, crush it, hurt it, throw it, punch it, kick it, burn it give back all the pain it caused no, no, no, no, no, no, no

dim-lit house, halogen lamps memories buried in the backyard camping ground you were six and invincible writing letters to your future selves in a time capsule to open it in twenty years, you’re six months late couldn’t bear to step across the threshold of this deceased estate filled with strangers you’ve always known who know you by the wrong name sixteenth birthday, disappearing act took a greyhound to the west coast and never looked back turned some tricks out of a motel eight anything to wash oklahoma’s sour taste out of your mouth fell into a scene in a club on the south side the pros and the queens, jokers and mean girls all dolled up in powdered wigs and eyelashes and curls and they’d say hey, girl what’s your name, girl? you and i, we’re the same, girl and you’re alright yeah, they’d say hey, girl why are you so afraid, girl? i said you and i, we’re the same, girl and girl, you’re alright dim-lit highway, midnight drive keeping your promise to the child that never died so scared of fading away ‘cause you can be invincible and still be forgotten someday and in berkeley you are a queen an athena, sprung out fully formed with no history no past to forget, but you carry it in your dreams that little boy’s still holding on to the only future he can see the only future she can see and you wish you could write back to that girl and tell her hey, girl i know your name, girl you and i, we’re the same girl and you’ll be alright you wanna tell her hey, girl you’ll find a new name, girl you’ll disappear and come back brave, girl and you’ll be alright you’ll be alright you’ll be alright you’ll be alright you’ll be alright

you quarantined yourself in a room with four black walls and no windows if you can’t see it, it isn’t there you gouged your eyes out, sat there in the darkness shivering if you can’t see it, then you’re not scared you can’t convince yourself the fear that you feel is just a rational reaction to the violence of the world knowing something doesn’t write it on your heart and stabbing pens into your chest just makes the ink clog up your veins you never used to dream, so you’d make up stories when you woke but these days you dream every night of a body folded under the oak it has no face and it has no name and you wake up with dead leaves in your throat for blindness cannot save you from a story that you own the inside of your eyelids’ a screen your mind will always show you quarantined yourself in a memory descending toward devotion if you can’t feel it, it isn’t there you scooped out every pound of flesh his fingers had ever charred if you can’t feel him, then you’re not scared you can’t convince yourself the hatred that you feel is just a natural part of grieving the only half of you you’d loved and ridding yourself of the remnants of his touch will only leave you a half-lit matchstick boy with your face flushed, lying damp there in the snow you never learned how to fly ‘cause it seemed like such a cheap escape and the burning paper between your lips is a cruel reminder of plans unmade ‘cause fire’s worst-kept secret is that you lose the kindling to the flame and the ashes that you’re left with aren’t enough to spell his name they’re just enough to write a eulogy for an empty frame you walk home alone on a stormy night and you can just barely see the mist of your breath ‘neath the streetlights you open the door, drop your keys in the bowl and you fall into the kitchen chair where he once sat before shake the snowflakes out of your hair, pretend that he’s right there his body a shield against the freezing reeling drunken winter air he asks you how was your day, you say that it was fine and you soak in the heavy silence ‘cause you both know that you’re lying you know there’s no point to conversing with a ghost but it’s easier to cry to the empty space if you pretend that it’s a shoulder you know and you know there’s no point to picking at the wounds and the scars are so fucking ugly but you don’t know what else to do you’re fraying at the seams, a ragged paper doll and the letters printed on your ribs tell a story that you wish you could recall there’s a hollow in your chest, your sternum’s caving in and the cavern left is a sacred ground that one day will be filled you shared your love with a boy who loved you for the boy you are and you buried him in a shallow grave in the brick-red mud of your backyard but you can’t read his words anymore even though they’re written on your heart for a mirror only shows you the end of the story of a scar and the shadows in your rearview will only follow you so far