san rafael inferno

 

Those nights I consumed your memory

bubbling up

and bitter.

 

On the table you left fuel for doubt

so that in the heat

 

my thoughts would burn revolutions

(to the ground)

inside this new shell

for months.

 

Red moon, spinning quicker

choreographing revelations-

 

arachnids only want a home;

and I would have glowed for you

under the strangest blue light.

2018.

© grace whatley, 2020

  • Instagram - Grey Circle

@gracemaepaint