Revised: to the quiet girls

To the quiet girl with the werewolf love

One day you will realize the reason you howl at the moon is because you ache to find your tribe.

I need (I’m here) to tell you that there is no quilt in being ripped open.

Why do you continue to quiet the call of the wild?

You keep it pent up inside that great big expanse of heart-

No wonder you keep coughing up sweet dirt

No wonder you keep trembling at the sight of waves (you were the tsunami the totaled an entire town)

You keep waking to find white sheets stained with blood,

scratches across your legs, brambles buried beneath your blankets.

(I know where you go when you leave your body)

Be cautious.

Calculate your needs, especially to touch yourself.

You are the daughter of a witch and when you come

entire cities quake with you.

There’s no running from this, sweet girl

you were never born to be ordinary

The sins of strangers smell of boiling flesh, still burning from years ago.

Suffering for their convictions.

And the calls? The ones you’ve always tried to quiet?

That’s only the Earth singing your name-

your praises

Begging you to come home.

You won’t survive much longer without it.

The girls with the wild hearts become feral when kept from their own.


Leona View All →

30-something Mississippi queer. Bleeding heart with a soft spot for honesty and oversharing. Conquering corporate America and my own insecurities– one day at a time.

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