I Closed My Mouth

I loved puppies and horses.

I loved people, laughter, and Cheesy Mac.

I was soft and round and,

The words they used were biting and sharp. 

They cut me deeply.

So I retreated and huddled alone in my dark room.  I became the darkness, and

I closed my mouth.

No one heard me. No one listened.  The darkness inked my ears  and tatooed my heart.

I painted with pain in bold, silent strokes.

I closed my mouth.

With your mouth closed you are protected.  I was no longer soft and round.

I became a chiseled edge.  

If I were still, I could barely feel my heart; my breath a whisper in the dark.

My closed mouth was a gash, a wound, an abomination.

I stopped feeding my brain, my heart, my body.

I became whippet thin, transparent to all but myself.

I closed my mouth.

My mirror brayed, "Soft, round, U-G-L-Y!"  I closed my mouth.

You could not hear my mirror.  You could not see my flesh hanging, hanging, hanging over my jeans.

I closed my mouth.  

I screamed silently into the world.  When I pushed you away, I secretly cradled you to my sharply edged bones.  

The darkness did not claim its prize.  I survived.  

But the tatoo upon my heart remains.