things i want to ask you.

​

​

i want to ask you what god feels like. a dawn-kissed lily or the knife in your back. something to be afraid of. do you cross the road when you see a black cat? throw salt over your shoulder when you catch your own reflection and the mirror breaks? i don’t. how do you like your waffles? i want to ask you about that. i want to ask you about breakfast and honey. sunlight. do you like strawberry smoothies? there are so many things i want to say but don’t know how to. i’m thinking about angels again. i could be one, if i wanted to. like every animal, i was born from blood and shit. i’ll learn to bite my nails. i’ll mutate. mutilate. file my teeth till they’re razor sharp and bite my own fingers off. do you like pasta? i always cry when i grocery shop. lingering in the produce aisle, turning every fruit over in my hands to find the ones unmarked. i want to ask you if you can love damaged goods. i want to ask you if you’re scared of your father. if you could surround yourself in a colour, which would it be? i want to be a warm yellow. i want to be a light blue. i want to be a colour and nothing else. there’s only one mirror in my apartment, it’s the one by the bathroom sink, and i keep it covered by a towel. this is where i’m supposed to make a vampire joke, but i’m not very funny. if i had to live forever, i think i’d kill myself, and yes i get the irony. i want to ask you which monster scared you the most as a kid. do you believe in parallel universes? i think sentience was a mistake. i think this body was a mistake. i want to ask you if you like strawberry ice cream. i want to ask you if you sleep with the lights on.