The covers cried out
as I break free of their greedy,
jealous grasp. First small victory…
I’m supposed to count those you know?
To remind myself to keep moving.
I still cut out my heart today
and sat it on the kitchen table.
The knife smiled at me,
small victory for it I guess.
I felt the air slaloming
between my ribs
on its way to my spine,
where it grabbed hold.
Cold, unforgiving.
I should be used to the cold,
it’s the same every today.
My needle pierces the scars
as I sew the thick flesh back in place,
to keep the cold out, of course.
Reminding me of the days
the victories weren’t enough.
I stand and put on my sweater,
grab the heart, and throw it in the trash
on my way to the covers
to ask their forgiveness for thinking
I would be strong enough today.
The victories can wait until tomorrow
after all.
