i don’t think necromancy is something you put on a cv

stomach’s necropolis hums with electricity
but the lights won’t turn on and the cobwebs are
sticky (somebody forgot to pay their dues)
harbouring pasts long forgotten
where the dead churn and writhe
a bygone is never a bygone and
a house is never a home and
i so often forget i am not a bird of prey

my hands were not made for letting go
i wear your memories
i dance with your ghost
prom queen crowned most likely to kiss death on both
lips grasping, grasping, grasping

daisies pushed up
lilies spread around
mould streams out of eyes
i organise a funeral for all the best parts of me
i am tired of writing eulogies

Featured photo courtesy of author.


In a dream, you saw a way to survive, and you were filled with joy.


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