Orthodox Moth

You are beautiful in what you are not what you believe Cherry girls bleed blue on pricked fingers spilling into one another like the words we never considered saying to our parents one day “You gave up too easy .” Pricked fingers pressed to pricked fingers like,” if I give you this, Its yours to keep”, sisters- brothers by association, guilty by relation. I do know, orthodox moth, That your eyes will tell the truth even when your mouth tells lies. The Broken non commercial praise scattered on porcelain sinks. We sat in wooded brush tucked quietly behind the trees knowing the sunrise would protect us soon enough, and there’s nothing scary about dying for a 14 year old. Orthodox moth, patterned by your mothers beliefs and stained by your fathers traditions. Leaking from the finger tips- marbled hopelessness to conform. A pact that wasn’t made on a Bible.