My house is not an echo chamber for the wind
My lungs are not rose beds
My rib cage has no birds in it.
There are no flowers on my windowsill
The sunlight doesn’t radiate into my soul
And the night sky never whispers.
I have never resurrected the bones
Of the wolves who used to hunt here
I have never been immersed in the scolding cauldron that is my lovers arms
I have never cast a love spell at midnight
Hands up towards the sky
I have never prayed for forgiveness until my knees grew red
Never forgave another until my heart grew larger
Never bathed in a river in the moonlight
Never cried so hard I saw stars behind my eyelids