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an attempt at healing in 9 parts



I slam goodbye so hard

the door is no longer on its hinges

Vodka bottles break to fill the silence

The destruction doesn't seem so loud

when quieted with a chaser

I pour myself into her,

a vessel to hold me for the night,

that is, until we are both empty

promises with nothing left of ourselves

to give, so she leaves,

and I shatter


When sweeping what

remains of my glass heart

I always save

the largest shard for safe

keeping a reminder to

not drop my guard so

quickly again

The night I drop the shard

into my skin

and draw crimson

will mirror the mourning

I've buried that is only

present when the trauma

needs a reason to keep me in bed

and I will stay here

laying so still


It's 4:17 a.m. some Monday in July

I am sharing a bed with a man

I met less than three hours ago

A stranger I thought could fix

all this broken over a girl

who couldn't love me the way

I should be loving myself


"I've never done this before"


By "this" I of course mean

"I've never compensated my

sadness with a man before"


We finish the conversation without words.

Only taking cues from the other's body language

carrying out the dialogue for hours

though I do not believe they

spoke in the same tongues


After I went down on him

he didn't return the favor

only pushed me back

and proceeded to thrust

'til he got off

inside me


This is the first time

my body hurts like this

cries when I move it too quickly

You'd think I'd learn by now

sex always leaves me

more dead inside

The kind of dead that

leaves me vulnerable

and bleeding


When the self-medicating fails to work


just as I knew it would,

I will reach for the other bottle,

the one prescribed for bad days,

I will reach for it in the same way

I reached for the lover,

or the glass

It, too, will be sacred

I will chase with water

This time

the burning

won't be from vodka

I will call this   good enough.

Call it  healing.

Call it      alive.

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