fairytales

the taste in my throat

is not flowery like I wish

it were

swallow tears, and drink

them like tea, they’re good

for you

but my tongue is scathed

and sore, my throat even

more so

there’s a thunderstorm

in the near distance—

this thunderstorm is the

soundtrack to my sappy

sad, story

I don’t like thunderstorms

and the way they

interrupt my thoughts

my attempt at peace

peace is a myth

peace is out of reach

but I am wishing for it anyway