i suppose i knew better.
yes, i was taught to be patient
and kind
and
gentle.
yes, i was told:
"comparison is the devils work."
i knew better.
but,
when i saw those pixels,
that smattering of pixels
that didn't suit my tastebuds
i was furious.
furious in the gentle way, of course.
fury shown through a tightened grip, an
exhale
a small smile.
laughing when someone hurts,
watching the blood splatter
across the floor like
constellations
and wiping my hands
free of sawdust.
running through a mist of metallic and
feeling it's spray on my face
as a heavy
cloak
trails behind
me,
engulfing the concrete
in my wake.
anyway—
deep down
i vowed.
vowed to be better.
vowed to beat them down
with chains
until they rotted.
"watch me,"
i said.
"you just watch."
then i would wait.
they would sit
in a velvet cage
while i bared my teeth
and added a puff of blush
to my cheeks.
lithe and
wanting,
i waited.
it is my turn.
it is my chance
to prove that i can
be better
be proud,
send chills down their spine
and drench them in longing.
after this—
i will don the fragile girl again.
take her out of retirement and
test out her smile,
just to make sure it sings.
"yes mama,"
i'll recite.
"i must be gentle and kind
and patient. yes mama, i know."
