I have given each part of my
heart a name

attached it to a memory and
age

this one is seven, cutting off
the blonde hair of Barbie dolls
and painting in the plastic, fleshless scalp with my
wax crayons

now she is eleven, anxious walks
from school, skipping self consciously, aware, painfully
aware of everything

the size of her fists clenched
in fear against her palms,
the length of her nails scratching
out moments so that they
pass

(faster)

now, I am ageless,
nameless - I don't belong
to anyone, not even to
myself

and it is better this way,
to be dragging my knees over
the glass of a shattered whiskey
glass

crawling, the dirt is where I
belong now, it is where I
nest - and the state of my
skin is nothing

nothing compared to the torn fabric of my past

aged seventeen and bro-
ken

cheap *****,
dangerously cheap
*****

a spare room, is where my body is hijacked, and the very core of him
becomes the core of me

as he takes me,
piece by bloodied piece

until there is
nothing left
of a girl

no hearts,
no parts,
no names

the bitterness,
the knowledge,
that it was ***
that broke me

and that only ***
can make me
whole again