The house where your ghost lives,
And yours and yours and yours,
And his,
Ah fuck I've done it again.
Loved without my own skin in the mix,
Come out the other side bleeding
Hissing, hurt and fit for anger management therapy,
It's so easy to blame another for
Provocation and meanness
But isn't this how most wars start?
Through retaliation?
I suppose without it, it would simply be sin,
But now, to my chagrin,
I see we are both guilty,
Both fit for repenting,
So why then am I the only one on my knees
Tearing at my spinal column for another inch of freedom?
Why did I try to give what cannot be given?
A better past, shifting sands turned to concrete beneath your feet,
My lungs to breathe,
My heart to beat when yours turned to stone,
Did I truly believe my worth to be nothing,
A sacrifice laid at your creaking joints,
And here I do it again and again,
Let me tell you something then,
I am worthy. I am healing.
To focus so much of your being outwards means
Losing too much weight,
Losing too many friends,
Calling yourself sane when your brain is barely hanging in there
Now my own mother cries when she sees me
For how I have destroyed the body she built,
But it wasn't me!
I try and tell her,
I try and tell her,
It wasn't me.
It was the aggression of my loving,
The depth of that loss,
The cost of putting others first
Meant I've lost my strength, my voice
My arse, my balance,
My mind at times and my dreamscape,
Once the only safe place.
This, mama bear, I got from you,
She always gave herself the worst cuts of chicken,
Stretched herself thin to pay for meals
For her children,
Shut herself down to follow the life of her husband,
Calls herself a former artist despite the burning passion she lives with
And calls herself ugly for the wrinkles she's grown into.
She doesn't even know she's this beautiful.
That the power of love she has given sustained me and my family
Through kidnappings, cancer, debt and destructions
Always her warmth and hugs kept us in our skin
So says my auntie who thrived on these hugs
Through the death of her mother.
My goodness, that is generosity.
Sometimes misplaced, sometimes martyred,
I'm left screaming at bent reflections,
That I did not want this,
Emptiness in my gut
I did not know this was the other side of love,
I knew what I had before it was gone
But it goes anyway,
Beyond any control or will of my own,
Now what's left is my freezing Bones,
Blue hands, a constant shiver
And reprimanding phone calls,
This anger has burned out,
This loss is let go,
My friends now ask if I've eaten,
A question they never had to broach before
My therapist says kid, you've got the guilt
For something you did not do,
Stop trying to make amends with those who won't forgive you
Just breathe, tell me what you need,
Leave the rest up to this skygod you speak with,
