Perhaps if
i had finished picking at all the sharp insecurities that leave fingers raw and ******,
If i  had finished picking at all the sharp insecurities ; cause bones casting shadows beneath my skin.
If i had finished picking at all  the sharp insecurities
cutting them out of me with her
sharp words,
Over and over and over
Frantically scraping
Scraping
Pasting
together some sense of security with my
repetition
Beating it into existence with my
Persistence.
Saying it over and over and over again

I wouldn’t be
falling
Yellow, brown, purple, blue,
Bruises where my knees make contact
With the stone floor,
With concrete,
With the stairs to my bedroom dungeon

My panic shaded shackles chaffing my scrawny wrists.
Fear can hold you captive

I know there is no monster on my doorstep
No one sees it
But i hear it breathing there.

I feel it waiting for me.