To my poems, that turned my heart into a womb, birthed something that'll linger here longer than i will. I hope you sail through the seas, baby. I hope, young hands find you. Hands of 16 year old girls, like i was once. I hope, you reach wrinkled hands and ragged breaths, bedside tables in hospitals. I hope, someone learns the language just to understand you. You've been my sword and sheath. My prayer. My victory. I've given you my own heart. My own breath. So wherever you go, they'll know. Milli was here, and here, and here, and there. credits: Host & Artwork - Milli.

Latest episodes of the podcast Milli was here. [poems]

• ANATOMY.
• HOW TO BE A WOMAN.
• THE BIG BOX CALLED "HOME".
• Everything, you idiot.
• A MILLION LIFETIMES.