Julia of Oceania · Poetry · writing


Blood is not thicker than liquor,

I lament while refusing to celebrate your birthday.

This is the mark in the road, the crease in the map, where I trace the red line back to the beginning.

When I was small, you were the brightest star in the sky –

Illuminating, reflecting down upon everything that would go bump in the night


you’re one of the things that makes the sweat drip down the crevice in my back when I clench my eyes closed;

A fragment, a shell of the person,

that sat on the foot of my bed and whispered calming words until I believed them.

Blood is thicker than water,

But liquor is slicker.


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