Harboured Hears - Jas Saunders

Harboured Hearts

Jas saunders

i hate that i pray, every time we go into town, that my eyes do not see and his eyes do not find the rarity of people in this world, that tell me i am not alone, so i don’t hear the words he selects to use for slandering me and the people i love, in the back, like a sword in the stories and tales i decorate my spine with, and that is a shame to me.

i hate that when i speak, my mouth opens to an encore of lies, taught to be spat out for my safety whilst the truth does not get to hatch, and spread its sweet songs across my bedsheets, scrawled on shutters, twirled around a lock of hair, or resting upon a finger. the truth does not get to grow into the butterflies i spent a childhood composing chasing catching.