Every night I’d  fall apart in your arms
You were always one for puzzles
By morning I’d be Whole again,
I sleep  alone now, wake up still waiting

You’re always in the back of my mind,
When I kiss him at night
I think of the way we used to laugh until
The morning.
Sunrises have not been the same in ages.
I know you hardly think of me at all,
I hope come fall I cross your mind.
I hope you smile.

This is my body
Size 12, wiggle room
Jiggly thighs, 5’2
(And a quarter. It matters)
Overgrown roots blend
Into DIY blonde,
Somewhere in between
“Well kept” and “definitely depressed”
Acne scars, decently white teeth
Scar on my brow from that time I tried
Rollerblading into the sun, I swallowed the pavement on the way down. You can still see the cracks in my teeth, just underneath my laugh lines. I always tried to stay as positive as possible. No matter what.

This is my body, it holds memories like water weight.
Destined to burst, void of drains,
Man Made pores- formed from the inside out by cries for help that never surfaced.
Porous and calloused, found out that its purpose for a year straight was simply surviving.

This is my body. Flashbacks on a marquee, survivor’s hands painted nicely, so no one ever asked me why they were so *****, and broken, and ******.

This is my body
His dead skin under my nails,
Petrified.
Proof of a fight. scars on my arms
North of my elbow: survivor’s guilt in the shape of a Star, I spent last summer wishing night after night I wasn’t alive- I was so tired from pretending.

This is my body.
Latches like a leech to anything warm.
****** dry all of my loved ones in the year I spent spiraling,
searching for solace or sanity-
even safety. Found nothing but panic.
Nervous bird in a cage.
Narrow shoulders.
Boxer’s stance.
Dancing on the front line where I should have been to fight
Using my fists never worked.  
Neither did screaming “no, no, no”
Present until that very day. And now I lay silent.
Absent like a soldier, staring into space.
Trying to make sense of the shaking.


This is my body.
I have my mother’s eyes, her mother’s brain.
Black and white, strict like law,
Cemented in place for weeks at a time,
Then Moving at the speed of light, I cannot stop or I will die.
Creaky chest upside down, my stomach clings to my ribs.
Stand still until the room stops spinning
Or until my head stops hurting
And my legs stop shaking
And you stop when I ask you to stop
“This is my body” I whisper behind your hands as you steal all autonomy
I am left with nothing


This is my body.
He took it from me,
Did not even have to try to ruin my insides,
Did not blink an eye in the year I spent unraveling in front of everyone I loved,
Pulled out every lash I had, lost my job because of panic attacks,
But I am commanding it back.
I spent the last 6 months building from the ground up.
Spent the last 12 taking up the space I did not before.
The last 3 learning that it’s okay to.
I stopped apologizing in January.
I started yelling again in February.
It took that long to think anyone would ever hear me,
No one ever had.
This year I took my body back.
This is my body. Size 12, 5’2. Wiggle room.
Sometimes it can’t breathe right and shuts down in big crowds.
But this is my body and it is big and it is loud.
It takes up space, it is strong, it is pretty.
This is my body and for absolutely none if it, am I sorry.
Not a single part.

Golden communion,
Grace of God,
Patience of the devil.


You begged me to forgive you,
I never learned how.
I knew clinging to hate was a sin,
I never sat down to listen to the ways you were sorry, I don’t think you had many.
I pray now from the street, make a temple out of gravel, swallowed asphalt to be here, asleep where you left me,
Why did you hurt me then leave?
Why did you come back after I’d already grieved?

Partial to a past that explained my experiences in a causal tone. Like a story that had to unfold, I made sure it made sense because I felt myself losing control. I had to have control of it. Apologies for every mistake I’d ever made because amending my wrongs was praying for one night without terrors. Tug of war with God. Cause and effect. I earned my hurt. I earned my hurt.


People that believe in karma drive me ******* nuts. Plagued with guilt from my childhood because I got ***** at 21 and I thought maybe if I had been nicer to Cassandra B on the playground at 9 maybe I could have kept my dignity that night in my dorm room. But it doesn’t work like that.

I have survivor’s hands. *****, calloused, jealous hands. I am not innocent, I am vindictive and manipulative and when I argue with the person I love I get mean. When I talk to myself in the mirror, I am cruel. I am not innocent. I was a bully as a child. I thought all of these things were a part of the reason why someone took my body from me when I was 21.

I tucked you away in the back of my brain
Waited for the spring to thaw you out
And now I mourn our winters lost, our summer love fading fast,

It is May, we were not made to last

I had to watch a couple of ****** romantic comedies to see how ****** up you and I were. I had to listen to Maroon 5’s entire discography before I got over you. I came and cried right after 23 times before I stopped thinking of you during *** or as I was pleasuring myself but it only took 23 times.












We were chaotic and I will remember dancing with you on the deck after the rain; I will remember you covering my mouth at 2:31am because my laugh was always, always loud and our roommates were sleeping; I will remember us in rose, the things no one but us knows; I will remember the nights you sat me down and listened as I cried. And I will remember the nights you did not. I will remember our first kiss on a stranger’s couch, and our last in my new bed, 4 months after I moved out. I will remember bending over the bathroom sink at work the day I found out you lied to me, begging god to give me my breath back.















I will remember taking god for granted every minute until I needed him to breathe that night. I will remember you telling me you loved me for the first time, and I will remember the last. I won’t remember you in vain, with anger, with sadness. I will remember you and I for what we were. Rushed. Patient. Crazy. Unsteady, exciting. Happy. In love. Over.