life, passion, poetry, self, thoughts, Uncategorized

Sticking to my guts

I can’t stop telling this story

Of how my hands betray me

My fingertips slip then my foot trips

The darkness buttoning my insides

I want to stop telling this story

About my eyes shuddering in the mirror

Butterflies standing in hindsight

My eyelashes fluttering, their wings spring

Up and back into my stomach

Tummy rumbling like volcanic ash

Sticking to my guts like this story

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