because the frail wing
trembling in black possessive mud
is a voice stranded by words and
the night eats words

i walk towards it sharpened by desire
sometimes it seems human

maybe this is the only way
for my pillow to keep its gentle spell of dreams

because i need a place where i can hold you

you should know
i’ve become every altar across three continents

you should know
i’ve become every animal you’ve left behind

my prince of blue
night is better
i am afraid, glorious
and ethereal
water is poseidon and
the sky opens its mouth wide of fireflies
i land cool rain of thousand fires
in ash we are born

sometimes this place feels almost human

 

written by Lubomira Kourteva