notes on want

I feel sore,

it feels like my heart’s ripping at the corners,

longing to run away from this body,

this vessel that seems to know only hurt.

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I want to write words that hit nerves,

until they end up like mine,

altered.

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I want to mask the hunger,

the one that arrives angry,

leaving blisters

along the insides of my gums.

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i want, so badly,

to feel a kind of relief,

one that doesn’t threaten

only softens.

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the kind of happiness

that has no clenched fingers.

and promises to not run when i lose myself,

again.

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