meadowbreath:

suppose you are beaten
you are bell heather and blue icing
you are strange, a stranger sleeping 
at the weather station

you are sugar dissolving in water
a poster child 
for the ill-informed

you sigh and whisper “thief”
or “milk” or “field”
while the night closes 
around you like bankruptcy
like tight collars
on tall men

suppose you are lying on an examination table
doctors’ voices above you ricochet 
as if traveling through phone lines from a foreign city

suppose you die
a half death and end up in a coma

you are raped and give birth
to a baby with perfect ears
and too many fingers

suppose the night is a crime library
filled with lost gloves
dead girls

           does your light grow more furiously or diffuse?

suppose suppose you are one of these girls

Simone Muench

(Source: stillbirthed, via allthenight-tide)