inkskinned:

i’m real mixed up. i feel like my fingers are finally holding onto something, but i’m not sure what. it feels like a broken promise, or the sharp edge of a cliff. one moment i feel like i’ve got it, like my bones remember how to shape a form. then at night a ghost comes back to me. she asks me what i was before you. or what i was with you. and if this happiness is the cellophane before the break, like i just have to tug and it all comes down again. i’m covering myself with mud and calling it sunscreen. like i’m not digging my grave i’m just lying in the dirt. when the flood comes in i tell myself, hey, this is the new breathing. it’s kind of comforting. a warm suffocating. this is the new surviving.