mac 'n cheese
the mother of comfort
put it in my mouth

but no,
gross.

purple broken lantern lights
in the finger numbing cold of this cement cage
white buzzing lights in my face.

mental strain:
an annotated bibliography

you made this.

so revel in your creation, doctor frankenstein,
it was not i who chose to come into being.

you forced me into creation,
and now you must live with my screams in the night
my burnt wrists
and the haunt of a smile that lingers in my eyes -

you did this,
not
me.

today i became small.

just a dot on a campus full of people who don't sit with me at lunch
and small snowflakes that fall to the ground and melt just like i do.

happiness is a conundrum.
with it, i cannot feel content.
when i am sad, i am myself again.

something has changed today -
and it has made me small.
it has shrunk me out of proportion
down to my original size
where i remember what i am.

i remember the way you look from down here.
i remember the tall, garish dollhouse water fountains
and too big tiles for my doll feet
and exaggerated bows for my doll hair.

i am content with cracked surfaces.
i slip into them and feel the warmth of the burning earth below us
and i feel safe
like drinking hot milk when it's snowing outside
melting my insides.

i let you make me small.
i let you make me insignificant.
i like it here.
i remember it here.

my memories waited for me  
to return and lie in the melted lake.

i remember when i was afraid of losing my virginity.

when i struggled as he tried to unzip my pants,
put his hand up my shirt.

i remember when his harsh fingers against me hurt
and i wondered if i was going
to hell.

i remember feeling innocent.
feeling whole, unbroken, unspoiled

most of all i remember sitting on the edge of the bed afterwards,
staring at the empty space in front of me
and waiting
to feel
something -
anything.

i have not felt since. not the sharp cold november air against my freckled skin
nor the happiness that bubbles and froths
nor the pain in my chest
where i know it should be.

so i create my own pain -
my own feeling
i burn the life back into my wrists. shock myself back into
emotion.
like i am doctor frankenstein bringing back to life the monster -

but this boy keeps killing me
over
and over
and
over

that's right.
drink, boy.
drink like it matters
because it did.
drink like you did something wrong
because you did.
drink like i'm crazy for a reason
because i am.

just because i'm your girlfriend
does not mean it wasn't molestation
wasn't ****
you knew
i was frightened
you knew
i didn't want it (a small part did, but does that matter?)
you knew i would be too scared to say no.
because i was a little girl inside
brave face on the exterior
shivering saint interior
you plucked my bud with hard fingers against me
fingerprint bruises on my arm
bitemarks on my neck
the cut marks on my thighs were not your doing
i did those
myself...

redemption is hard to find.

if the soft sweep of hair across my bare shoulder isn't enough to make me feel beautiful
what is?
what is the cost of being comfortable in my own ribcage?