i want to stretch worlds with my elbows and vomit sunshine, but you already knew that.
i make pretty words and you think i'm saying something new.
you know it is that i don't recognise my thousand angles. you were the first to believe.
why can't i find you in my sleep?
why can't i slip through the world and find you, sitting there, find everyone who is sitting there, in the mud in the grass in their house?
i feel the impressions of the earth. i see with my heart.
i cannot feel you across continents and sestra, i need you to tell me how i feel.
only you can't of course, because you're you.
i suppose i feel for the two of us. you my voice and i your heart. conjoined twins. they split us at the neck.
you know that old story of the woman with the green ribbon?
within that story lies our secret.
1 comment:
You have inevitably piqued my curiosity, so I must know: between you and your proverbial sister, which one of you halves is the head bound by ribbon and which one is the withering body?
It must be draining to be halved, letting words spill out like the blood that sustains you.
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