ZoeBee

They call her the witch
Says she acts like a tramp
All the men ignore her
'Til she lights her red lamp
They call her all sorts
Of things god forbids
Though they wouldn't say them
In front of their kids

Some houses are for haunting
With crickets on the floorboards and portraits on the walls
They are not made from linoleum and granite and warmth
But moonlight and copper kettles and secrets and chandeliers

Unlike the people who swear social media is satan's spawn, a endless spiral of doom and self hatred that can only result in feeling awful about yourself, I don't believe that social media has had a more negative influence on my life than it has a pos

I got lost in a book one day
Lost among the words 
And as I was swimming through murky ink
I came upon three birds
The first urged me to turn around
To run from whence I came
He had spectacles and articles

Trickle down honey
Drip over my collarbones and slide with my shoulder blades and caress my caving chest
Set the silks
Swathe my hips in satin and stitch with samite suns 
Soften my hands with sugar and milk

If you could taste my sorrow
If you could taste my pain
If you could taste my hopes and dreams swirling down the drain
You would know the taste of brown
And the fuzzy taste of mildew