When I evolved from a shy, nervous child - riddled with anxieties and crushing fears over library book deadlines and lost permission slips.
I became empty.
I was a human wasteland.
A desert.
I was nothing.
From the outside in, I am brimming with life, inspiration, hope - and I was loved inspire of my searing temperatures, dressing nights and my demons.
But from the inside out, I was empty.
I did not cry for years.
No moisture wicked these lands.
And I was so content in my solitude.
I was no one.
I was nothing.
The idea of being one half of a couple - in a relationship - sickened me. I saw what it did. I saw the swathes of destruction, the tears, damage and heartache and I vowed that I would remain alone. Stalwart.
I resented the girlfriends who abandoned me, forsaking our friendship for the company of that one boy.
I despised those who stole my childhood friends away.
I rolled my eyes and I hated.
I promised that I would never be ascribed the same fate.
And I was resolute.
My bones were my love. My anguish and torment. I wore them on display and spectators said:
'You look so good now!'
And I laughed behind my hands at the deception and falsity. Praising myself inwardly for each day I spent starving. Feeding the wasteland.
The bones jutted out from the hot desert sand.
Bleached and brittle.
More and more with each conquest of self.
The scorpion scuttled,
The coyote howled,
And the moon glowered down on the ruins
-of Nothing.
And then He came.
Manifest destiny.
Inhabiting the inhospitable plains.
He poured in effort, time, love and care
And I had a population of one.
I wasn't there.
But he was.
He told me he loved me after three short weeks.
And he made the dustbowl a fertile, lush plain.
But it was his land.
Not mine.
Never mine.
And when he stopped tending his crops, I pushed him away.
Drought.
Dust storm.
Destruction.
I retreated to the wasteland from which I came.
After some time, it was like he had never been there.
I had never been tamed.
The sand swirled in a whispering sigh.
And laid bare the bones
And the snakes
And the vast desolation.
If anything, the desert lost some of its thrall as I armed myself and readied for the next invasion.
I armoured myself in fat and deference
I stood ready to face those that would come.
I am nothing again.
An empty glass,
The dry heat
And the sun radiating from the sky and the sand.
But by night, I am cold
And desolate.
And alone.
As I wait, wait, wait
For someone to tame this wasteland again.
