Breadcrumb #523


“Everything you love destroys itself. Until it doesn’t. Until it lays bare.”

—Joanna C. Valente 

Although my hair flows
hanging on either side 
of my shoulders enduring 
like unwavering soldiers,
fuck the fatigues, I wear 
black on the outside
to hide all the verbal bruises
you conflicted on the inside–
I don’t want to show my skin,
no low cut, nothing tight,
baggy to hide everything 
I once exposed to you.
When you see my eyes,
do you picture desperation?
No longer… Watch me 
strip, survivor bold, witness 
every layer, every negative hold, 
I unhook, unzip and tear off— 

You can never destroy me. 

I know you always still try 
to redial me, now I leave you 
hanging… can you feel me 
now and all the ways you 
tried to display me during
the most dreadful uptight parties—
the mantle trophy affection object, 
but I was no hors d'oeuvres,
You neglected me as the main 
course and dessert. Still hungering 
for me, missing the way you tried
ball and chain me, I preferred whips
and chains, you restrained me— 
no more of my hair tangled 
in your fists. Now, focus 
your craving grip feel me blinking 
loudly, those nights so bored my eyes 
made out with the moonlight 
as you just laid there, always 
demanding you wanted me 
on top, always remember… 
every time, I spread, 
overriding you—
I came for me. 

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