Y

Super rough. Been a while.

——————————————-

I check your name against the news

back in our hometown,

still saturated in bruises,

I beg my heart to slow down

slow down, please

 

 

Might find you at the grocery store

when they broadcast our songs

no car on the highway anymore

choking down the playlist, not gone

still take the floor from under me

 

Think of your car in the backyard,

The thin line of fence,

Think of you in footsteps, I always turn,

streets seem safer with strangers now,

like going inside wouldn’t be too late

 

I was warming my hands on your chest, but

now I’m locking my windows and shutting my blinds

staring at the places you used to sit

like you’d be there if I let myself blink

 

you’d buy me drinks to make me weak

erase my body and pretend to sleep

cant reconcile the memories,

cant reconcile you next to me

 

I check your name against the news

back in our hometown

still resting on the edge of a blade

still dreaming that I’ll find you there,

knowing that I’ll find you there.

xxi

Never forgot the feeling that the house was burning down
The feeling of you coming down the stairs
Thought I had close the door to stop your storm
But crosswinds closed in
I didn’t have to let you in

I land hard on your silence
Sitting across the room
deprived of the things you’d give anyone else
but you still punish me like no one else

Thought I had arrived somewhere
with a strength that would be enough
thought I had a lock and swallowed key
but it kept me inside instead of keeping you out

Never forgot the feeling that the walls were caving in
folded on my knees, resist the urge to breathe
keep my back to the ceiling and my heart on the floor
make me so small I am nothing at all

make me so small I am nothing at all.

Stories from Growing Up: Dreaming of Trauma

I have nightmares when I sleep, more than ever before. I dream about being in physical danger, rage, violation, and about trying to pack my things and leave but never getting out the door.

fragments of phrases; “this doesn’t feel like home,” or inarticulate screaming that never says enough.

When I wake up, I wonder how I could leave them behind but they could still have such a hold on me. Physical departure is not mental departure, but one day I will wake up, having made it out that door.

 

 

006

I sit awake at night

and weigh the pills

against any inclination to sleep,

none.


I am two half circles of darkness

encasing fatigued seas,

I am a leper to dreamland,

a short circuit that feeds

a waking fear from

any sliver of sound,

imaginary feet on the ground.


I close my eyes

to raindrops that used to feel safe

when tapping on the window pane

and I fear the intruder

the ghost that lives inside of me.


You’re waking as I put my head down,

turn away from the blood vessels that

split the sky

miss the spilling from my eyes

laugh off the memory lapse

can’t think of where I was at

can’t think

where

was I at?