when i unravel, stitch me back together

i.  i’ve been thinking poetry since i left the womb

      i just didn’t know it could be written until

ii.  in the second grade we created small books of poems

      i wrote about the trees and the ways my mothers country warmed my veins

iii.  in the seventh grade i began to feel a burden

       the pain didn’t reach the breaking point then

iv.  in the tenth grade when i broke, my guidance counselor told me to write

      only one in a toolbox of “coping mechanisms” she handed me

v.   i lost my first journal in turkey

       and cried when i thought my poems might be shared with someone else

vi.  my ex read “angel on the left wing”

       over my left shoulder and i didn’t stop her

vii.  when i ran out of paper first i began to type

        and i shared the first with anyone who cared to read it

viii.  when i cannot sleep, cannot cry, cannot speak, cannot feel fear anymore

                  it spills out of me

            turning blood into ink

                      thoughts into words

                  pain into acceptance