two years ago my body was anything but. i built bridges
into my heart and burnt them down
just so all the memories couldn’t pass

this is an apology for all the good things i left stranded,
for the massacre inside me,
for the worst parts that survived the war

i never intended to grow outward instead of up –
just wanted to be a part of the needed,
of the appreciated and loved

i stopped playing the piano when i was nine years old
because i hated the emptiness that filled the air
in between each note

one night my dad slammed the door so hard my mother
shook for days, i made her coffee in the mornings
because she couldn't bear to sleep in a half empty bed

those were the first nights i spent writing
rather than sleeping. this an acknowledgement for the words
that never made their way onto paper

to all the bridged dreams and deserted soldiers -
i am coming back for you, all of you,
and i will tell your story