the way sovereign bodies grow into one another

enclaves coalescing to form new imperfect states

when we are produced together it becomes impossible

to tell the difference between good bodies and bad bodies

there are just beautiful things to blossom inside broken ribcages

there is just the way birthmarks of trauma dissolve

when my love holds pieces of myself that

have only ever seen what violence looks like

i think about what the body inherits

my grandfather’s wounds become my

father’s wounds become mine

passed down like a jawline &

only ever spoken about through silence

there is so much viciousness in only

knowing these things through absence

slowly i am learning that no one heals in solitude

we cut out the ugliest parts of each other

in quiet queer rituals on shared double mattresses

i am learning to live inside a broken thing

when i call this body a wreckage in the middle of the night

you ask me not to speak about your home that way

Image: Open arms / flickr