Insults thrown as easily as tableware,
And I catch every single one.
I never learned to duck, dodge, or weave-
Plates fall and shatter,
Ceramic cuts my skin.
I stopped trying to get out,
Accepting the pain,
Because I believed I let it begin.
But pain never asks permission.
It just makes itself at home.
Living with it is hard-
But no one tells you
How hard it is
Once you kick it out.
Plates no longer fly.
There are no holes in the walls.
Nothing lurks around the corners,
But still,
Your heart races in the dark.
Safety is an illusion
You can barely see.
Healing is so daunting
When you're attached to pain
You shouldn't be.
I didn’t notice the damage until I began the repairs-
patching holes, sweeping quiet shards,
still cleaning messes long after the breaking stopped.
