Wrote this poem when I couldn’t get out of bed this morning.

Iron corset
tightens around ribs
The fat of my belly twisted
taught
skin becomes Vibration. Tension.
Fabric eaten
by the gears of
hungry fingers
digging
in to Flesh.

Memories of Him and Her press into the butterfly winged bones of my pelvis until the sliver of cartilage that holds me together threatens to Snap.

It’s a miracle I haven’t yet snapped.

But the bruises lining my thighs have been yellow for years, and though I’ve given up hoping they’ll heal, at least they no longer bleed.

God what I would give to know I could still bleed.

But I’ll smile when we gather at the coffee shop today, as there are no scars to cover, no stitches waiting to come out. This is just a mind game after all. I just need to remember to breathe.

I only ever needed to breathe.
I only ever needed to be.
If only He had let me be.