Moderation
"The heart does not consult morality, it votes with blood."
Some people sip.
Some people sample.
Some people touch the flame
just long enough to feel clever.
I was never built for moderation.
There is no shallow end in me
only plunge,
only the salt-deep surrender
of stepping past the edge
and letting the water take my name.
You hold your feelings in your hands.
I hold them in my bloodstream.
What begins as curiosity
learns how to live in my ribs,
how to knock from the inside,
how to rewrite my veins.
Everything I feel swells until it cannot be contained.
Thoughts scatter like pollen
carried too far for any hope of return.
Affection does not linger at the edges,
it sweeps through,
pulls down ceilings,
pulls stars into my chest.
The world may call it imbalance.
Call it hunger masquerading as meaning.
But the body knows.
The heart does not consult morality,
it votes with blood.
I do not skim the surface of wanting.
I drown.
I let the water write your name
inside my lungs.
I let the tide claim me
because resistance has never
felt like virtue.
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Annotated soul
"What do you do when you are not the story, but the sentence that changes how the story sounds?"
Wake up, babes, a new poem from Milena’s Corner just dropped 💅
In all seriousness though, this one was so good! It felt kind of wild, kind of feral, and I LOVED it