You held my secrets

bitter,

under your tongue.

I didn’t think I tasted that good.

My fingers grovelled inside

those threshold sounds.

Gravediggers of how

you used to murder my name.

You said that this pain

flutters between your teeth

and cuts your tongue in two.

I turned you venomous, didn’t I?

You said that trust

is a cult romanticising faith.

I said that maybe I’m the one

who invented that kind of religion.

Water takes the shape of its container

so I poured your name into my mouth

choking through a flooded wreckage

that worshipped what we were.

Please burn everything.

Brutally and wickedly,

you must set that prayer aflame.

until I can’t hear it anymore.

Charlotte Hoang (she/her) is a multidisciplinary artist, drawn towards all things art-related such as the fine arts, music, writing, and photography.