colors and somewhere overseas.
I want to go where the sea can hold me in it’s palms, blue and salty fingers that clench around my limbs or where the earth splits wide open to swallow me whole so I can drown in it’s core and melt in it’s lava. Somewhere I can curl up into myself and linger there for a while. I don’t live in the stars but sometimes I hide comets behind my ears, let them glow in the space between my lungs until my chest turns red and yellow with the leaves. Water dripped from my hair from where the currents caught me and my eyes were full of sand, calling out for people who thought my rib-cage held fireflies when it held the stars.
