You Might Feel Free, But I Don’t

I tried to burn every trace of you

Thought I’d be overcome with a sense of relief

But I’m still caged in

A captive to you even when you’re not around

Your name’s been scortched into my lungs for as long as I can recall

I hear them calling out for you in the night 

Your fingerprints are tattooed across my skin 

I can feel it peeling off of me, crawling towards you

And your spit is stuck in the back of my throat

I can taste you anytime I cough

I’d be willing to set myself on fire

If it meant you’d go down in flames too


The Chronicles of Medusa

A man has never truly loved me, only the idea of me. I’m a figment of their imagination, a fixation. In their dreams, I live forever.

I line my lips. A kiss guides Satan from the tip of my tongue into his lungs. I’m taking hold of him but not his heart.

If I’m at home in his dreams, is it possible that he finds safety under my covers? Limbs intertwined, there’s no love without touch with him.

His breath hits my spine and I am his prisoner, bound to him by shackles. Love may turn even Medusa into stone.