gently
so gently
you pulled the
threads loose,
set me free

but the relief lasted
barely a moment -
you tied me to
you, chained me,
and even after
you decided
you didn't want me
anymore

you left me
with the shackles
and the bruises
and the empty bed
and the sheets
that still smell
like you.

I'm sorry
my broken pieces
cut you,
but I'm not sorry
for the way
I chose to put
them back together.

I built my house
with the stones
I found
when I hit
rock bottom.

it's a mess,
but it's mine.

I am discovering and
rediscovering myself
every single day.

some days I am masterpiece
and others I am tragedy.

most days, I find I am both-
my ruins have been tagged
so many times they've become
a mural of memory. all the
love and the loss and the longing
carved into every inch of bone,
sewn into every inch of skin.

some days I look at the architecture
of myself and I swear I should have
been excavated years ago and
some days I'm in awe of what the
wreckage has become.

undress
peel the layers
of skin

find the name
of every boy
carved into a
rib

the bones are like
flower petals
the blood like
a river

fed it the lavender
heat of want
and neglect

paint it on your
skin the war paint
of trying too hard

of giving up

find her in pieces
each and everyone
with your name on it
only yours
only yours
only yours

she pried every rib out
years ago, used them
to burn at the alter
of every loss and

every longing
and she still holds onto
the ribbons used
to connect you

the one you untied
years ago

they don't taste right -
other boys.  they put their
hands on me and my brain
is the tornado and my mouth
is the hurricane and they
don't taste right. too much
salt, not enough sugar.
like a meal, always missing
something, never quite
sure what.

I never had that problem with
you. you were always just
right, tasted like warm whiskey
and strong coffee. always knew
where to put your hands.

I wish you'd carry my body back
to the river, to the ocean, to the underwater
abyss where it belongs.
my bones have been used as kindling too
many times, my heart the flame,
my blood the life pumping through veins
that have never been under my skin.
my ashes have been spread in graveyards
I never meant to die in and they take
my fingers, they take my hands,
held above the fire for warmth, held
in the candle wax, calling it my rebirth.
I wish you'd give my body back, still
feel the map of me being rewritten by
your fingertips, the weight of you,
the breath that was no longer mine to
take, or mine to give.
the way you anchored my soul, tethered
it to 'home' but you forgot to take it with you
when we left. nothing's been home since.