you care for me
on a windy night, breeze rattling the windows, my fever
high and hands clammy
with fits of devotion.
i felt my skin rise up at every
dark moment, every angry
desperate loss within my body
hair tangled around my throat threatens me.
cold on my upper thigh, fleeting
in exploration, refusing excavation
just another clinical eye, mimicking real weight
inner expanse of skin panicked at your touch.
you care for me under the cover of darkness, secrecy our covenant.
through visions and beguilement alone.
lightning cracks through the earth.
i wake alone, my dreams disturbed.
weight of your hand on my throat
where my pulse runs dry, fleeting deathlessness
you take it upon yourself to solve.
a memory fated away.
every dramatic gasp of waking up at night,
my neck stiff,
Milena Bee is a genderfluid chicane poet and mythologist based in Los Angeles, CA, where they live with their geriatric tabby cat and a number of houseplants. Their poetry is at times a method of chronicling the seemingly important occurrences of life—an attempt to crystallize otherworldly moments in their timeline. In a way, they're trying to find a way to court the preternatural in with their supernatural fixation. This often manifests in observations on the overlapping threshold of death, love, loss, and longing. They're the co-editor in chief of All Guts No Glory, and can be found online in various spaces like Twitter (@mildrangus) and Instagram (@beenymph). In real life, they're trying to curate their own library, commit a little more to non-poetic writings, and perfect the art of making cold brew. These are all successful to varying degrees.
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