Something Magical

There is something magical 

About those of us 

Who escape death 

Before we can even walk or talk 

I swear we are magic

Creatures breathing 

Through the aching 

Of knives placed in our hearts 

Way before we learned love 

I am 26 years older 

Than my father ever wished I would be 

I am a human ghost 

My father’s very own grim reaper 

They say there five love languages. I know seven: 

  1. Words of affirmation 

  2. Acts of service 

  3. Quality time 

  4. Physical touch 

  5. Receiving gifts 

6. Self hate 

I learned from extending my arms 

Into sunsets of unreciprocated love

I earned it by running myself dead 

Into the graves of men who had nothing 

But heartbreak motels for homes 

Self hate 

A curse I breathe as a mantra 

The taste of inhales 

With every om 

Dragging my soul 

Into endless caves 

Me a slave

Searching for love

The exhales 

Run the rivers dry 

Thirst 

I am thirsty 

My heart is parched 

No longer pumping 

Oxygen to the butterflies 

That once lived in my stomach 

7. Sacrifice 

My mother 

Oh sweet, darling mother 

Worships me 

Like the priest does a congregation 

During offering collection 

Her eyes 

Are a celebration

The praises of a choir 

The gospel of sacrifice 

Was a sermon my mother 

Preached

When she chose me 

In the darkness of her womb 

During the attack and betrayal of her heart

Her uterus 

My only shelter  

My mother chose me 

So here I stand 

With the burden of my father’s 

Womanizing tactics 

I suffer 

The tears women shed 

Over his nature 

I am the flower 

Watered by the tears 

Of heartbreaks my father caused——-

Karma

On the days where I am calm 

I make peace 

With my dharma 

My reality 

I remember 

How death escaped me

How the breaking 

The broken

Tried to do to me 

Buried them in personal hells 

And they thought  

They could use me

To cleanse their unholy

To wash their bodies in me

Little boys trapped in men’s bodies 

Thought this temple could lead

Them to the holy one 

This vulva 

This orgasm 

Could be the organic 

To their filth

There is something magical 

About those of us 

Who escape death 

Before we can even walk or talk 

I swear we are magic

Creatures breathing 

Through the aching 

Of knives placed in our hearts 

Way before we learned love