by yvonne park

i will chew you up but not spit you back out

because once i do, you’ll be free

the red lipstick will not now represent an invitation 

but the anger i have for you

the boiling blood

the fumes of my sage

as it tries to barricade the torture that comes within you

the light glows and then it shatters

the trifling damage you have done to my soul

leaves you with practically no body at all

i bury you into the ground

i will dance on your grave

i will spit on your shoes

and leave you restless

even though you were never tired