Two of Us

Who am I these days? I don’t even recognize my own gaze. A stranger’s taken my skin Cut me open and stitched me up again. Now we’re both in this hell Two angels who fell Hating themselves everyday Till we both wither away

Sour

Is the taste of my bile. I hug the porcelain bowl, body heavy, anchored to the tile. My throat burns and no honey here to hold my head up while my stomach churns. The fever won’t quit It’s lonely and painful. I pass out and I drown in my own vomit.