The Woman I Am in the Middle of the Night Saves Me a Seat and Says Let’s Talk
by breia gore
I only notice my mania when I trip over it in the middle of the night.
I can’t pull it out without fear of bleeding out. Being a woman is fear of bleeding out.
I leave it there and walk around all night like the most beautiful woman in the world.
I can’t blink. I can’t think of my rotting teeth or nasty cuticles or throwing people into a paper shredder.
I want people to say I tried so hard. I want them all to say they saw how hard I tried.
I want to gather all my friends in one room and, like animals, shout that I have swallowed everything
and all they do is compliment my lipstick. It is my lips fault for searching for the right color.
When I get to the kitchen in need of tap water, the most beautiful woman in the world is there,
pouring me a nice vodka cranberry and pinches in a bit of orange. She pretends not to notice the thing in my chest.
She pours me another drink and when the clock turns back on she turns to me and says,
you have no heart, go back to bed.
Breia Goreis both muse and maker, artist and author, Leo sun and moon, living in South Carolina with her three cats and human partner. She is pursuing a writing and expressive therapies ba, editor-in-chief of THE HONEY MAG, and has written the poetry chapbook LEO, HOVERING with Bottlecap Press. When she isn’t baking bread or drinking tea like the total cottage witch she is, she can be found online @gorebreia or breiagore.com.