
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.