you came crawling at the back of the door that day –
with your mouth full of blood
and your heart tucked in the cup of your hands.
i don’t want it anymore, you said.
the water can endure, but ice, ice does not forgive.
you poured yourself on the stairs of the house
full of someone else’s photos ; it was your
eyes, your lips pouting, too much melting,
too many bruises and not enough warmth.
she was the skeleton you didn’t know how to explain,
the one you had to run away from just to survive.
when you came back, you had to pick old
wounds; you had to blosson back into
ache and hatred and become someone worse than before.
you never knew how to stop stitching yourself
with thread from other people’s scars,
never knew how to love the empty out of you.
yes, you got here the hard way, but there’s no nightmare
and you don’t have to play the monster anymore.