Thinning fabric

We broke up the other day, I’m trying to pretend not to notice

Truth to tell we were never really together

I try to recall the times you’ve broken my heart

I’ve let them fade into the fabric of our story

Fabric worn thin by my worrying hands retracing patterns again and again

Trying to commit us to memory

I glance at your piece of our cloth, you’ve cut out bits of us, leaving patches in our truth

I wonder if you remember what it looked like before you erased us

Does your mind recall how beautiful we were?

Threads woven together bright and dark, hazy and shining

Like sun breaking through clouds after a raging storm

These days, you see only the storm, can only take in the chaos

Should your fingers try to retrace us, they’d find holes held together by trivial pieces of our memory

I still see us, breaking boldly through clouds

Weaving our story together with threads of tenderness, laughter and pain

How could you cut us apart?

I’ve kept my piece intact; fingers retrace our history at times lovingly, at times mournful

Feeling always where we’ve thinned out

Our fabric is worn, the time has come to put us away

Tracing patterns once more I fold us up and place us in my dresser, next to old faded sweatshirts of love gone by

What you choose to do with your fabric, I have no say

For my part, I’ll keep mine hidden and safe

Neatly folded and forgotten as we carry on the aimless game we play

We broke up the other day and today, the sun is hidden away

Skies are dark, dreary and grey, contented to stay that way

Skimming the surface

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I feel seen by your eyes; this frightens me

A bead of sweat drips down your face. I stare, enthralled. I find myself contemplating its flavor.

Your mouth has got me shook. I cant. Stop. Staring.

I peek inside your mind and find it lined with shelves, littered with papers and books, some left open and forgotten. I imagine you skim through them from time to time. But only when necessary

I want to be there when you get out of the shower to smooth your skin with shea butter while your body is still steaming, and hot, and wet

Sometimes, I imagine you’re stretched out beside me. We lay on cool green grass below a tall sprawling tree, sheltered from the blazing sun

you know how when you’re reading and you realize your mind has wandered? Well, my mind wanders to you

I fantasize about loving you. For this, I blame you and I blame Audre. In no particular order.

If I’m right, you think of me slightly less than I think of you, this both draws me back and drives me forward

List for me the following:

your favorite book

your favorite poem

your favorite song

I want to search for you in their words

The next time we are alone, I will not tell you how I feel

I write around you, not about you. I tell myself skimming over you is easier than diving in.

Open Window

I have a narcissistic wound

according to a book which reads me like I read it

& tells me about my scars

like it was there when they were cut into my skin

from the inside

toughened,

strengthened

constricted

which is why I didn’t know

I tried to tamp me down

dreamer, lover, achiever

was buried beneath the scars

I’ve found an ointment I rub it on my skin

I don’t know where it came from

I found it in a tin on my window sill

I left the window open last night

felt a breeze graze my face as I slept

traveling across unfamiliar lands

with old familiar guides

I awoke to find the gift waiting

‘use me’ it said

‘I will help to heal you’

I don’t know the names of the gods who bless me

that knowledge was twice taken from my spirit

but I feel them with me

know they bless me

as I love on them, they love on me

it’s comforting to be loved in such a way

this is the love to sustain me

It’s a fight to stay sane

I know this

its why I unpack

I watched what it did to my father

bottling up his trauma

spending his life with the people who hurt him

I grew up with the person who abused me

I’m asked to continue to spend time with that person

as though that were a normal request

as if I am wrong for loving myself

fuck

I push everyone away

everything I type is so cliche

like

everything is so fucking trite like

this is the shit inside my head

insecurities and fucking

doubt

a child screaming to be loved

to count

I crack myself open &

wedge a crowbar between my rib cage and pull

I spill out

I leak onto the floor

this bleeding is healing

I know

doesn’t make it hurt less

it hurts more

because I know there’s more to come

healing hurts this way

I could press my hand to my heart

to stop the bleeding

blood would just seep through my hands so

I watch as it falls through the cracks of the floor

collects in the cool dirt beneath this room

below this house

I hear it sink drop by drop

pooling

into the water supply

but the well has run dry

this blood from my chest

all sadness and grief and rage and joy

I offer as sacrifice

to the earth who birthed me

& the well which sustains me

Certainty

I ripped up the photo of us

I took it off my altar last week

 I don’t know if I regret it

Ripping it, I mean

I can always print another,

If I want

The pieces landed on my guitar

I don’t think it was intentional

I was feeling petty and small and

Just a little bit trite

I can’t tell if I miss you

I’ve rebuilt the wall around my heart

Only concerning you, and a few other

Unmentionables 

I think it’s going to take me a minute

To come to terms with losing you

I had high hopes for us

My childish view of love and 

Relationships shining through 

I don’t want to have to say goodbye

To be conquered by fate and truths

Too harsh to be faced together

It’s important for us, it would seem,

To divide and conquer

Fate has other plans for us

Maybe we’ll get drunk together one night and

She’ll whisper them in my ear

Explain to me why we came together

Only to fall apart

Unsatisfied.

Unsure.

Things an Adopted Child Learns:

I can’t make you want me

I can’t make you love me

27 years of learning breaks open in my chest

A seed was planted twenty-seven years ago

I just ripped it from my breast

It’s covered in blood and gristle,

It’s rough to the touch and has a foul stench

I need to cut out the branches, they’re woven around my ribs and heart and that little light in the center of me, I like to call my soul

Maybe I’ll set it aflame,

Cauterize the wounds even as the tree burns

As it turns to ash in my throat, cleansing my speech with it’s smoke, making space in my heart and around my lungs.

I think I’ll put it in a jar. Place it on my altar. 

A reminder, to make sure I keep the fire burning.

Fairest of them All

I saw Snow White sitting 

On a sidewalk

She was wedged between 

A trash can and a light post

She was drunk

And smoking a

Cigarette

I guess she woke up 

To the lies the dwarves 

Had told her

Got hip to the birds

Whispering in her ear

Found out no prince

Could save her,

Would save her

Snow White learned 

The world

Is deeper than that

Darker than that

I watched

As she pulled on her

Cigarette,

Looked vacantly at

The flame

Raising a bottle

To her lips,

She attempted

To drink away

The pain

As I turned

And walked away

Fairy Tales,

I thought,

Would never

Be the same