an attempt at healing in 9 parts
TANESHA NICHOLE
1.
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
​
2.
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
​
3.
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
​
4.
"I've never done this before"
​
5.
By "this" I of course mean
"I've never compensated my
sadness with a man before"
​
6.
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
​
7.
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
​
8.
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
​
9.
When the self-medicating fails to work
again,
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.