You tiptoed into my soul without my say so, slinging all these empty glass jars out of my closet and into my rib cage, breaking the siren song of eternal silence against the wall of this slippery, pumping, bloody mess that keeps me alive.
That’s a falsity. You didn’t tiptoe. You brushed your fingers through the sand, dug them into my scalp, kicking up all these embers until I was choking on the smoke of my own madness. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
I don’t know if I should smile ’til you’re on your knees or batter up and swing, let you burn inside my skin or bury you under your audacity to waltz into my heart.
So I’m standing on a doorway, sleeping under a fence, waking in between, drowning in the liminal. Fire dripping off my lips, teeth bared, trying to get a hold on reality. there’s a blurry sign somewhere but I’ve gone blind under the weight of the unknown. patience isn’t my thing, you see. dangerous, to make me wait.
I am neither walking on sunshine nor hunting the darkness to render my nightmares broken and this is confusing to me. I am not that way on a normal day.
So what’s me? The parts you don’t see:
I’m a wild animal, sweet and carefree until you realize I’m a predator and you’re all alone, where you’ve given yourself over to me, signed before you saw me. straight for the kill and you’ll learn. oh, you’ll learn. I am a wildfire you asked for but didn’t expect. I am the lightning scorching the darkness in the tornado outside your door. I am sweeping the blood from your veins and sending mmmmmm down your spine. I am the monster gripping your breath as you slide your feet back under the covers in the middle of the night. I am the last thing you feel, an inch of steel in your throat, before you can’t open your mouth anymore.
and suddenly, I am…
I am unsure if I’m going to hurt because of you or love you
I guess it depends
A letter to myself.
by Daphne Shadows