Beside the large crater on the right-hand side

The purse I keep all my words in
has been stolen
by the earthquakes and tsunamis that
keep leveling the branches built into my tree house.

I’ve been trying to persuade daytime
to inspire me because I haven’t slept in weeks.
Some nights you are just a dream
Some nights you are a nightmare
with his face
and his hands
and all the lies he filled my lungs with.
Sometimes I feel light enough to want you.
Sometimes the claustrophobia sitting
in my chest forms icebergs in my veins
and I can’t stop screaming silence.

I’ve been carving my initials into
the dark side of the moon,
and praying the open view would clear my head.