Breadcrumb #523
ADRIAN ERNESTO CEPEDA
“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.