Devour.

She laughs fragile like a teacup- filled only with the vastness of midnight.

Speaks like the sound a candle makes just before it dies.

Smells of heavy rain and a million reasons not to cry.

She never yelled, but there was screaming inside of her.

You could hear her grief and heartbreak from every type of love that denied her. In the way she scheduled silence throughout her day, like a pill organizer- in the way she wiped mirrors without ever looking into them.. She turned rest into powerful resistance, softness into impenetrable armor—

you will not disarm her.

It was as if sleep and survival had fallen in love, in her honor.

She moved like forgiveness-

Invisible,

but left fingerprints on everything, and you’d know exactly what it was when you saw them.

She made peace look effortless,

like she didn’t still flinch at the sound of her own name- as if she never learned that being seen, always came with being condemned.

She created routines for herself- morning, afternoon and night and made sure to hold space for relaxation in every section.

Her rituals aren’t for sleep, but for resurrection. She washes the ache out of her bones until even her ghosts must lie down for a second…

And when she touched me—

And apologized for every wound she handed me…

Every bit of me knew I should leave, but all I could do was thank her for even taking the time to reach out for me, no matter what was in her hand..

She leaned in closer, and I saw it. My reflection. The bite marks I never noticed. My pale and fading complexion.

Were there pieces of me she swallowed just to stay soft? Either way, I never made any objection.

When I finally let her go.

They said I loved her.

But I think I just hallucinated hope.

And yet… I’m ashamed to admit that I miss when she’d smile at me, so beautifully, filled with graceful lavender-scented peace…

with blood from my heart still showing in between her teeth.