Not one.
There is no undamaged degree of measure. No unscarred flesh, visible, or unseen. The porcelain I am comprised of is shattered and in shards, and its counterpart, also of which I am made, that iron is rusted and crumbling.
I have been abandoned time and again. By those who made me, those who saw their reflection in mine, those who might have needed me for an organ, blood, or a hug. The friends I have had while my mind and body grew are gone now. On to more fashionable choices. Ones with better toys, fancier houses, thier cute boyfriends. They traded me out like I couldn't trade clothes with them. Six inches taller with hips and an ass at age eleven. Their thin frames and boy-like chests left me feeling bulbous and boorish.
The males have gone too. I say males because men is too kind a statement and boys too generous. Boys are full of life and rambunctious joy. Men are full of pride and heart. Males are full of desire and desertment. I would not ask any of them back if I could. I would perhaps trade the hours spent writing my surname as theirs, choosing their birthday gifts, cooking them dinner and sucking their cocks. My time could have been better spent peeling paint from a random rotted fence post. I have poured myself out to everyone I have loved only to be filled with their selfish needs. Pulled into a fray I did not create, over and over again, to defend a person who had left me on the battlefield before I even knew them.
I do not know how to be unless I am being for others. For you. For her. For him. For them.
I cannot name one person who has loved me in a year the way I loved them in a moment.
I will never regret this.
The broken pieces of me are still present. I am still in my entirety even if not one solid piece. I am fragments of every pain and joy and expereience that has formed a kaleidescope of my life that allows me to see colors and vibrancy and movement and shape that others cannot.
I can lose everything and still have so much. I can be betrayed and still trust. I can be neglected and still adore. I can be discarded and still shelter.
My damages and my delights have been one in the same. I do not need anything from this world. From you. From her. From him. From them. I can exist in my own mind and heart for all their tumbling down staircases and flying above trees. The moment I was born I was broken. The moment I die I will break others. Repair and replacement are myths put upon us in a way that harms more than helps. I will not wave a white flag and surrender my damages to cause others pain. I have taken up the shreds of fabric, the banners of my life and love that have disentigrated before my eyes, and have woven them frayed bit to bit into a quilt that will wrap others up and warm them, guide them, protect them, and embolden them to love the same.
Though I was left, I have remained. I know the care I give is with you still. With her. With him. With them. Contact may be lost but I have touched and been touched and the absence of the hand does not remove that. The absence of a heart does not stop mine beating.
I am in pieces. All around. Everywhere. In her. In him. In them. In you.
No comments:
Post a Comment