I am broken.
I am scattered across the floor of what used to be a spacious life.
Now I am hemmed in by the cracks and jagged, pointed edges. Wherever I go, there are shards of glass too small to be dug out yet forever a part of my physical landscape…
Cut, bleeding, bruised.. I try to hide all of the ugly, but you know about it.
You know that I am weak and I am frightened.
I cry out for help where there is none at all to be had.
I blindly push against my boundaries, testing them,smile frozen on my painted lips..
Why?
Why do I bother?
That little bottle over there.. It beckons me with its lurid, red, lid. It looks like a mouth: “swallow me” it says.
I would love to attain sweet, sweet nothing: just sleep.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
I promise, promise, promise, I would dream of you.
oooh I love this! I love the ending! Your mom? What bottle? This poem is curious! Send it in somewhere. Keep writing.
Hello, I love your poem. I am in the midst of preparations for an academic presentation on B-cell autoreactivity and human immunity and wanted to make sure in the midst of all the science and cellular biology, the students understand that these conditions impact real, living human beings. I wondered if it would be alright to use your poem in the presentation? It will not be published anywhere outside the class room lectern and I will give you full credit (of course) for the poem.
Even though it is public on your blog, the poem is so personal that I didn’t want to take the liberty of just reading it without first asking. Feel free to say no if it is uncomfortable and of course if you wish to remain anonymous, I will just attribute it to an anonymous online blogger.
Thank you in advance. I wish you all the best.
Sorry to just now get back to you. I have no problem with you using my poem and would prefer you go ahead and credit it with my name. Your studies are the one, best hope, people like me have. Thank you for your work! Katie