these mornings i wake myself at dusk breathe in sun

glare from the western windows only

cloaked in dust and sour to the skin

a modest dress and tights ripped only out of the line of sight

grabbing myself by a short leash i walk

myself to the museum and nod at each painting like

it’s office hours, like this is cordial

lipstick smearing itself southward like i have any cognizance for direction

at this point, in this new winter clean slate of last year’s aching

skirt hitched to my knees, now,

the coffee on the counter proves to me that

at best, I prefer things undiluted

evening finds my bones are thrashing again,

a swift apology mouth curdling with the taste of a name you

always feel rolling around your tongue a marble rope twisted with forgetting

steel clatters to the floor at the base of your rib

cage

each

bone clicking itself into tired submission.

don’t let anyone inhibit this delirium of vision that is

nineteen years of life ebbing away at my own devotion

About Violet

She/her

Violet is a student at the University of Glasgow with an undying passion for all thing’s poetry and art history. She has been writing for as long as she can remember, making her debut as a poet on Tumblr at age 13. Since then, she has become an active contributor for the Glasgow University Magazine and keeps herself inspired always surrounding herself with art and literature.

Instagram: @violetmaxwelll