the soft

three parts

the past 

there's still a secret i hold

of a certain boy in the summer

that mistook "i'm yours" 

for "you're my possession" 

and sometimes when my mind

is quiet it reminds me of that summer

where that boy mistook no for yes

and i was only until i tore his claws 

off me that he realized what i meant 

and even then, he never learned

and sometimes when i try to tell 

someone what happened my throat

closes on itself 

it's almost as if he's there

claws around my throat

windpipes snapping underneath his 

jagged teeth 

sometimes i sit in that quiet place 

and he visits

the present 

sometimes i sit in the quiet place 

and people visit me all the time

more often than not, the darkness 

seeps through the crack under the door.

sometimes it coalesces in front of me

like an old friend and i keep it away 

at arm's distance but i can still hear it 

because i'm not enough i'm not smart enough

i'm not talented enough i'm not kind enough

i'm not pretty i'm not worth it i'm a failure 

sometimes it wraps its arms around me 

and searches for other cracks for it 

to seep through and 

sometimes i welcome it home

the future 

i remember sunny days 

back before all i had was 

the quiet room with the 

quiet darkness 

and the clawed kid

and wonder if the sun 

would finally tumble underneath the 

door and welcome me back 

and i remember that girl with

that buoyant step and her carefree smile 

and i really don't yearn for warmth 

but what i do yearn for is my youth.

one day i hope i can venture to the 

edge of the room and open the door

and see nothing but brilliant light

piercing through every crack in me 

and illuminating me with so much brilliance

that every piece of me blooms with fire

and i am nothing but a glowing ball

of luminescence 

- the three parts