i can’t shake them

a million moths

a tornado

in varying hues of distress

a million moths

wings beating bruising patterns into

my heart my ribs my throat

the black hole between my kidneys

a million moths

and they’ve filled up every space inside me

so i open my mouth to scream and

a million moths

come pouring out

but there are still

a million moths

with nowhere to go, and now

a million moths

are painting the world

with the most vulnerable pieces of me

the pieces of me i’m convinced no one wants

a million moths

are too much for me

so they must be too much for everyone else

a million moths

create thunder with the clap of their wings

and leave cuts with their paper-thin touch

so i’ll do anything to stop feeling, stop hearing

a million moths

turn it up to drown out

a million moths

anything, anything

to no longer be controlled by the whims of

a million moths

until suddenly

a million moths

go silent

wings flutter to a close

bated breath, then no breath at all

nothing to breathe for it seems

because all i wanted was for

a million moths

to find another light to smother

with their beating black wings

but now i can see that without

a million moths

there is no light

there is no me

a million moths

have kept my heart beating

my lungs breathing

my soul living

i am a home for

a million moths

and in their absence, i lose all purpose

a million moths

are simultaneously sucking everything i have

into the vortex of their wings

and giving me something to breathe for

in a world that wasn’t meant for a girl with

a million moths

living inside her

a million moths

have hurt me too many times

but they’re mine to carry

i have no choice but to try to love

a million moths

but you do

and i’m scared—

i’m scared that someday you’ll realize

loving me isn’t worth loving

a million moths