I know this life
well enough to know
that people like to get hurt.
It gives them
a story to hold their place
until next time.

I was taught
at a young age
that pain doesn’t demand
anything from us.
I never asked for
heart aches
or wounded knees.
I knew better
I was taught better.

I have friends
who grew up
with the misfortune
of knowing pain
as well as they knew their knuckles.
It was physical
psychological
emotional.

I know this life
well enough
to know
that humans
don’t
break.

Our bodies
are concrete.
We have to fill
the cracks
sometimes
but its takes
years
for them
to crumble.
I’ve known girls
that tell me
they know pain.
They’ve  felt it
grab their legs
and straighten
their spines.
They swear
they’ve shattered
into a million pieces.
They pray
for this moment.
They don’t
want to pick themselves
up.

They’ve been taught
to crack.
They’ve romanticized
pain
but wonder why it hurts so much.


I’ve grappled
with that concept.
I’ve known only
what life
has afforded me
thus far.

I know only myself
and I know that
I’ve kept wet cement
under my bed
for 10 years.
When I start to chip
I’ll fix it myself.
Don’t take an ice pick
to your body.
It’s too beautiful
to break.