"I'm okay" "I'm okay"
whispering to myself, hanging upside down
tears dripping down to my toes
when I break down mid stretch.
"Just breathe darling"
I coach myself, nearly rocking back and forth
on the wooden floor
while the clock reads 12
and everyone else is asleep.

The muscles wrapped around my chest
and my back draw tighter still
-like piano strings:
they wait, poised for the merest sound of footsteps.
And the air doesn't quite find my lungs
my mind won't come off high speed
and I thrash through piles of *******
to find the water-stained, warped, ripped notebook
and a gaudy pen.

Then I begin to scribble, compose,
quietly wail and rage
as stroke for stroke
I map out my traumas and my guilt;
            slowly tattooing my hurt
            like poetry on my skin.