Dear Persephone
I love a woman that everybody knows,
For a price you can wait at the door and be flipped through like one of her magazines. The ones she reads when she unwinds at the end of the day; filling wholes with carbs and silence. I listen to the whispers and judgments that become so loud. I start fights like a man digging for gold. Through blood stained hands and a back that forces me to pause. I’m looking for the truth that you hold with your best interests. The lies are links in your chain that holds others within earshot but never letting them get close enough to see your self inflected wounds. I just want the truth and not some version of it.. This is the terrible part of loving a part and thinking it was the whole. I could hear my heart beating and it hurt. Thinking of you hurt