Daggers, and 1+1 = Life

Daggers

 

her words are ice cold and cut deep like rusty daggers

Every…

time

she has a way of triggering things within me that I thought I had left behind

she takes me back to this dark place of self loathing, im back to picking apart every scab  

I sit here and think of all the reasons i should have never unloaded

 

I brought all these bags with me

some were stuffed to the brim, spilling its contents along the way

some items I went back for

and some I left where they lay

I walked in and looked around and thought to myself…

this could be home, and since I don’t have those too often,

always settling for a place to lay my head but never my heart,

that possibility was comforting

 

the idea of a home and family hugged me as I entered the room

but now they feel almost like shackles around my ankles making it impossible to move at ease making it impossible…

to feel loved, to feel accepted

to feel like I belong somewhere

Maybe my PTSD has forced me to believe that everyone around me is deceptive

plotting on my exit before I can accept it

 

I’ve never had anyone fight for me

I always find myself leaving and then asking why are you letting me leave

I sound crazy, don’t I?

One foot in and one inching out,

don’t you care enough to stop me.

I’ve never been stopped as I walk out the door.

I’ve never gotten a please, can we just talk?

 

do you know how it feels

to constantly be the one on your knees

constantly begging to be loved

begging to be seen

begging for just one chance to not be so fucked up

 

I AM SORRY I AM SO FUCKED UP  

and i swear i’ll get it together its just,

I don’t know what together feels like at this point

cause it’s something i have never been

 

I keep trying all of these schemes and following different blueprints that were clearly never meant for me, for us…

can’t you just wait for me to put the pieces together?!

I promise it’s a complete picture all the pieces are in these bags, somewhere,

wait

isn’t that what i did for you?

oh i forgot

the biggest mark of a fool

is believing that how you treat others is ever the way that they will treat you…

1 + 1 = Life

 

Several 6 packs

5, 4 locos

3 bottles of Bacardi

2, siblings. Brother and sister

1, man. Drowning.

I’m swimming

It’s taking every single breath from my body and all the ease out of my bones

I’m fighting, against the strong and persistently relentless current that crashes in my face over and over and over

It’s swallowing me whole but never defeats me as I finally surface unscathed with little breath In my body

This is what we must do, that’s what mom beat into my head but I guess you never got that

That’s probably why you left

She was trying to teach you too and now look at me here trying to convey the same message

Some things never change….

thanks to Her I’m an expert at maneuvering swiftly through these currents of pain like a cheetah chasing it’s prey

These waves of anguish only free me as they twist the key into the lock around my ankles

Freeing me so maybe

I can free you

 

Look, brother!!!!

I’ve trained myself to breathe underwater

I can be everything this world can not be for a someone that works hard but will always be a few shades too dark for a singular ounce of sympathy

When you wake up in a house full of cards surrounded by ivory painted bodies you must be aware that any move that is made by anyone will bring the house crashing

But me?

I build my house up one brick at a time

I paint each wall with love so precisely you can feel it drip drop onto you as you walk into each room

I have showered thank yous into each bedroom so that you’re wrapped in gratitude before you even touch a blanket

My kitchen is stocked to the brim with limitless life, all the things mother forgot at the grocery store

Every single time

 

I built my own nest with all the scraps of love I have found along the way tucking them into our foundation

I’ve saved it all for me,

I’ve saved it for us!

 

I pray on worn out knees and aching hands folded for you to join me over here

Can you swim me to me, Brother?

Its me, your sister

Can you dredge up some strength?

SELF ASSESSMENT

I found this portion of the class to be one of my favorites as I enjoy writing poetry. In this class in general and a challenge that comes with writing anything that is honest is working through whatever is going on with you internally that inspired the piece, To write honestly, it requires getting honest with yourself no matter how hard that is,