The Same Way Poem by Maya Hanson

I pray the same way the world taught me,
both hands dipped in fire,
lying until I somehow get the truth out,
in questions I think I'll never get used to.

I speak the same way I always have,
slowing down when the sticks have crossed
or I can't breathe for swearing on everything I see,
like how I think you can't be held for too long.

I shatter the same way the sun taught me,
painful as diving below the earth
just as the magic starts to happen,
wanting so much to stay
that I leave streaks of my setting behind on your skyline.

I don't often believe where I come from,
to make me believe in something
you have to push it in my face
or mix it like a scent
into the saltwater I rub into my skin every night.