Untitled #37

Let my clothes hang off this body
Swaddle the frame so I don’t have to see
The contortions of its joints
Bent out of shape
Twisting to fit into places I should not have gone
Places I wish I could
From years of ballet lessons
And attempts at gymnastics
A fractured rib and
A broken leg
I do not want to see the shell I label as
A house
I want to watch harsh words get
Caught in the fabric barrier
Between the world and
This vessel
Because though it does not belong to me
And I cannot bare to look at it
And it causes me stress
I still care for it.

Categories: Poetry

South

"A simple being with the hair and heart of a lion"

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