Musings of A Heroine
Tonight was the first time in two years that I’ve had to scrub you off my skin.
The water boiled red hot against my flesh and we blended together into pink.
The bubbles covered my screams and the sharp pop of them bursting in my ears made my teeth worry my lip and my eyes to squeeze tight against the sorrow threatening like wild fire. I gulp down my luke-warm tea and think of how beautiful I would be if I was some place else.
I thought of the spring classics and the joy of lycra filled youth; how much I just want to come in from the cold. I want to stroll down cobble stone and let the warmth and green surround me. I want to dance with Phil and smile around my ale.
I crave worn smiles, twinkling eyes and laugh lines. The crisp of sheets and the slow dance of kisses across my neck and bones flash against my eye lids and my tongue slides around the phantom of a cucumber sandwich.
But before I knew it, you were cracking into my suspension… I could feel the ghost of your fingers burning like a million hammers against my hips;
And I hate you.
My head dipped underneath the water and I wondered how lovely the weight of the water would feel at the bottom of my lungs. I hissed and the bubbles moved across my body like a thousand beautiful diamonds. I felt dirty… the smell of shit and soap was choking- I sputtered and coughed, watching the water out of my mouth like a fountain through glazing eyes.
Was I the picture of vulnerability?
Or a wounded, revenge seeking hero; edged with the taste of war?
I let the tub drain, the bubbles clinging to my skin as my body emerged from water; olive against porcelain. I really did feel tarnished.
The walk to my bedroom felt like it was over a bed of nails, but as I sit and stare at my hands, I can’t help but feel stripped.
The towel lays forgotten on the floor; the spring breeze is my clothing of choice tonight. It swirls around me, covering me in all my places of ache.
I’m trembling, my chest heaving and my shoulders shaking, and I’m closing my eyes against my pillow; the leaves are dancing with the wind and part of me wishes I sounded that beautiful.
The other part is trying to sleep, because you can’t get me there.
It’s hard to hate you all the time, because without you I wouldn’t of become what I am… but there are nights when I can feel the bile rise and my eyes roll, when I hate looking out my window in fear to see you standing there.
Don’t worry; don’t let my destruction way on your conscious.
I am neither yours nor anyone else’s now.
Don’t flatter yourself with the knowledge of my tears because they do not flow for you. I knit myself back together by choice and I don’t need your sorry.
I am mountains of snow to douse my burning core, and petals of floral to this blank canvas. I am a million different suns to keep me from the cold, and I love too great to swallowed hole.
These nights are when I discover a piece I’ve left behind and I struggle with where to hide it.
In the curves my of my calf? In the nibble of my ear? Or maybe in the softness of my thighs? I do not know where else it can not be found, other than the cover of my words.
I wonder if anyone wonders… what I look like under my laughter, or what I sound like when I’m not wearing words, perhaps what I taste like when I’m not suffocating.
I bleed for no one;
Haven’t you heard?
