i am learning how to stop burning down the house
just to show you where it hurts
for years i kept my hunger in a shallow grave
and called it mercy
i let my teeth rot behind a polite smile
then wondered why every kiss tasted like rust
i thought if i asked for water
i would drown us both in the river
so i drank the salt instead
and waited for you to forgive me for being thirsty
it is a bloodsport
unlearning the art of my own strangulation
every step forward feels like hauling
something waterlogged up from a basement
i know the shape of my own ruin now
i can name the trap as it snaps on my ankle
and still i bleed into the snow
surprised by the red
you tell me the fire is smaller these days
that we are only fighting over the embers now
and not the entire forest
but oh
how exhausting it is
to celebrate being less of a monster
i am trying to stop calling the bruise a secret
i am trying to open my mouth
before the dark swallows everything i meant to say
i am trying to say the true thing
while there is still a room to say it in
how to love you without bleeding on you first
is the only lesson i have left
and i am still in the first hour of learning it
—lyra moon (the house is still standing this is what i have to show you)
july 21, 2026