things we leave behind

by emery rose

so proud you are of your words which are deliberate and yet you continue to cast curses as carelessly as your shadow

i was told i should have been thankful that you didn't strike me harder or scream at me louder

i was told i should have been thankful that you didn't drug me longer or isolate me more

i was told i should have been thankful you didn't secretly destroy more personal effects

i was told i should have been thankful that you cared to read my secrets hiding in lost notebooks

i was told i should have been thankful that i didn't struggle as much as others surely did

forgive me if i was not thankful for when you set your bar so low i broke underneath it

whether you are leading me forward or pulling me back you are always holding my hand

liberation is the beige fabric interior of a decades old honda accord every inch scrawled with black sharpie a collective mural of self portraits and anthems of rebellion seats peppered with cigarette burns every crevice lined with tiny green leaves a floor concealing broken jewel cases of long forgotten punk albums underneath bags of weeks old fast food which are continuously trampled under the feet of friends

leather turns to silk and angles turn to curves madness turns to comfort a tingling of the nerves

surface oils all dry up tears no more impeded the waves of noise once deafening are quiet and receded

anxieties are clearing no restlessness of heart things are held together now that once were torn apart

take two right before breakfast then another sometime today three more down after dinner little circles that guide the way

when i am neither here nor there my muscles lose tension and i sink down with nothing to grasp

i cover my face so that i cannot watch myself and with each gasping breath i become lighter

floating upward from sutures and bones floating upward from a prison where do i go? how do i return?

sometimes i wonder if one day i leave it again and i find some place better what will become of what i leave behind

will others believe it has been cured like i was merely a demon to be exorcised will it remain frozen in time awaiting my return or will it rot while the world moves around it

left hand on its stomach right hand on its breast empty its lungs slowly in through the nose and hold

then release and repeat until i return

he doesn't hurt me as often as he used to but when he's spoken from the lips of love i crumble

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