Being able to breathe with my own two lungs
Has never been a talent of mine.
I have always needed another's spine to keep
Myself steady as I walked against the current,
Have always grasped onto any palm that was turned
Toward me in this life and sometimes the owner would
Snap my wrist into submission so I would act like a
Dog with a limp.
Tail between my legs and a flinch at every sound or
Movement.
Perhaps that is why when I was younger I craved for
Lively, red slippers, because even to this day the idea
Of clicking my heels and returning home feels like the
Happiness of a long forgotten childhood.
But I don't seem to know where home is anymore.
Whisper into the hallows of my cheeks the secrets of those
Nights.
Those nights where everyone touched my soul with filthy hands
And didn't bother to clean up the mess they made inside of me.
Allow your eyes to share with me what I felt before this, before
My mind became witch trails burning innocent people at the stake
Because I was afraid, because someone abused my insides and
Didn't leave fingerprints and I wanted to know who and why and
What I did to deserve it.
Take my fractured wrist and remind me I am not a crime scene,
That answers will come out of their burrows slowly while the
Clock ticks and that I hold the key of my life and if people walk out
Of the door, I have the power to close it, lock the door and swallow the key.
Tell me that my spine has always been strong enough to fight the current and that
This body is the only structure I need.
Plant flowers in my soul and when they bloom they will remind me that I have
Always been enough.
