by Christina Antonovskaya

There are some ways in which

I know that you hold it back;

Not asking me things, not asking

Me to be more more more anymore

Convincing me that "no way just

Look at the way that you're loved"

Making me sit pretty again

Graffiti in the background

Feeling it weighing me down

Doing my makeup, feeling myself

And sometimes not

Sometimes these faces mimic mine

When sleep won't come to me

These familiar animal mordi

Mardi, merde, mordi, morning

If you weren't mine

I'd be jealous

All the pavement underneath

Your tired feet, unimaginable

Cracking open slower and slower

Then too much then disaster

Scorpio's home

It doesn't matter



Christina V. Antonovskaya’s prose works and poetry have been featured online; on personal blogs, Metatron, Lemon Star Magazine, L’Éphémère Review, Awkward Mermaid Magazine, among others, and she is currently working on publishing her book of poetry titled "The Symptom". From just north of Toronto, completed BA in Psychology, and writing has been a serious passion since early teen years and she uses it to understand and make sense of the world and her own perceptions of it.