Can't you see me?
Standing naked and dissected before you,
my essense spread upon a silver platter,
waiting for you to take even a crumb
of whatever might spark your hunger.
You applaud the performance,
yet my name has already faded from you with the curtain's fall.
Perceive me.
Not as an apparition, drifting through your periphery,
but as something warm and tangible in your hands,
pieced together in flesh and bone.
Love me for the terrible thing that I am,
or cleanse me from your sacred space,
so I may learn to haunt someone
who isn't afraid of ghosts.
Trinity McDaniel is a Tennessee based mother, writer, oddity artist, and model. She’s spent most of her life writing and trying to find her voice, drawing inspiration from the ugly, romantic, parts of being human.