the snakes have always infiltrated my life,
whether slowly or in masses
they've been consistent.
depriving oxygen to certain limbs
so I could not walk or crawl to safety.
some days they get just close enough
to swallowing me whole
that I can still smell
the metallic on their tongues.
I've tried to fight but too small
tried to scream but too quiet
tried to do something
but felt too nothing.

and sometimes
you become the thing you have feared-
I am starting to taste the metallic in my own mouth now
staring to think of ways I can feed off their oxygen
starting to deconstruct everything I've known about forgiveness
it doesn't serve me in this instance.
What good is being quiet and agreeable?
I still get eaten alive every time.

It's always just enough to fill them up
but not enough to leave me for dead
they still need me far too much
an ego bigger than their stomach.

They should've predicted
I'd be carrying all these resentments-
built up like muscle along my spine
metal encasing my knuckles
but how could they?
survival they only know because of me
they don't know what it's like to be bled dry
by someone who's skin you share.

how could they?
that would require paying attention.
and I have done enough of that
to build lifetimes with just the surface.
They could not even recall
the color my limb turns when they feed off it.

they will learn not to bite the body that has carried them,
as I shed the skin we share.