2017

i learned to forget what

my voice sounds like through gritted teeth

i grind them, still, at night

my habits melt like leather

off a cow’s back

my nails are

bloodied, still

and i wish i could say

it’s from the work i do

rather than the thoughts i

harvest

gardens filled with worries

i have not learned

the art of forgiveness

or how to shut off the projections

i play on repeat

of all the things i feel

onto all the people i claim to love

but i haven’t learned what that is

either.

i swallowed some pills this year

that helped me feel less

like a lost wanderer in my own mind

rather, a curious explorer

the difference has been grand

however

my jaw still locks when i’m

under pressure

and each morning when i wake up i feel as though i’m

unbecoming myself. Shedding skin

as i tear away these garments on my limbs

i’ve begun to feel as though i’m no longer small