I found myself relapsing last night. Again.
Sadness came about and held my throat with both hands,
and when I stopped sputtering and gasping for sweet air,
self-hatred was registered in my heart
and crimson red freckled across my upper thighs
The next day you ask me a question
"It's a simple one," you reassure.
"That requires a simple answer."
the embarrassed laugh,
the twinkling of the eyes,
I was taught to recite died on their way through my throat and
formed tumors in my lungs
You're looking at me now.
Your cocked head, the rays of shame, the pregnant pause...
are making the tumors grow grow grow
and collapsing the scaffolds in my soul
"I do not know," I whisper.
"I do not know what the question asks."
But I do.
I know the reason Mona Lisa smiled,
why Gatsby loved Daisy the way he did,
what foolish men were lured by the Sirens,
how much my mother loved me when she let me go while I rode a bike
I know you asked me what I love about myself,
but I have no knowledge of such
I can tell you that everything has beauty.
Everything has a place, a right to be loved by hearts
But some things can possess beauty,
but do not possess the warmth of others' touch,
and it's simply impossible to do all the loving on my own.
Alas, day turns to night
and these dark times are when my sanity slips between my fingers
In these dark times the monsters beneath my bed
stir and repeatedly whimper to be fed
broken dreams and wonders
In these moonless hours do I shiver when I hear the rattle of the skeletons in my closet,
and hug myself to keep from feeling too alone
But night turns to day
yet my dark circles still linger
crimson red still dots my thighs.
The tumors are growing
my vocabulary still is robbed
as I left your question
bereft of my answer