the lovedrunk cowgirl

I’ve never walked a bridge 

that I couldn’t burn,

I’ve never met an angel 

that I couldn’t turn.

and if I’m honest 

I’m scared 

that the only magic left in me

is the kind that lingers 

in morgues 

and under floorboards.

the devil on my shoulder 

keeps slamming untouched doors 

she makes me scared to love again

and to look in the mirror after four.

I’ll find a way to cope with it

as long as nothing is coaxing it. 

there are rings of salt around my bed

for the godless thoughts circling my head. 

I’ll resurrect myself every morning 

with love songs and scary stories

and in between them 

I’ll whisper your name

over the coffee I’m pouring.