Mia-Francesca

Songwriter, poet and journalism student living in melbourne.

Awful cat and The Theban Plays

God called me Fish Heart. Lily Mouth. I was an evening sort of girl. He liked me better ripped up, bar bathrooms, bar peanuts, skip the small talk. We’re both Adam. We’re both Eve. In the mornings, swallowing bait, swallowing nails, pulling apart the microwave, two forks and an empty socket. Baby, there is always a limit. Hours spent rubbing my belly, waiting for watermelon trees, or orange bushes, or flowers heavy with green apples. And now, this is what I can dissect: his fingers in the gut of the fish, his fingers in the core of the flower, always pulling. Like it wasn’t enough to feel, like He had to see, to know.

The medicine of words—medicina verbi.

—Anna Kamienska, from “A Nest of Quiet: A Notebook”, trans. Clare Cavanagh (via litverve)

Fresh sheets and the man of my dreams ✨

Fresh sheets and the man of my dreams ✨