Bon Iver breaks me into
Shattered glass until all that is
Left is my lifeless soul
Clinging to speaking tongues.
Tongues that once held a beautiful grin.
Giggles was my nickname but that’s
Before I learned what death felt like.
Before anthropologists apologies flooded
My unknown brain out of existence.
Bathroom floors were the best listening spot.
Foreign hands held my death in place
As the bloody sink water drained.
Bon Iver understood that skinny love
Was a battle between body dysmorphia
And the thought of not being able to see
Crooked ribs in a reflection.
What was love with a shattered soul?
Tiles of terracotta mixed with dampened tears stuck to the leg-less feet while they snuck out the door.
Wait, I’ve said too much.
Roslyn met St.Louis in the broken playlist
Because bathrooms were safe
And sinking floors were normal for
Ribs and mirrors to lay on.
Speaking in tongues.
Catherine (Catie) Reed, at the age of seventeen, discovered her love for poetry during the joys of COVID. Cooped up in her apartment in Boston, Massachusetts, Catie began to write in hopes of escaping boredom from her online classes, capturing the impacts of solitude against a blank screen. Outside of her Brookline life, Catie spends most of her free time in Portsmouth, Rhode Island, listening to music while watching the waves crash over the rocks.