inside the snow globei always thought i lived in a glass house;
the weight of my small heart crunched
as he walked up the stairs.
you can look
at a snow-globe
and everything seems so safe,
there's no way that anything inside of it can hurt you.
there's always snow
every time you shake the globe, the snow flies everywhere,
like the wind in your hair
when you're trying to run away.
he didn't think I noticed him staring, but even then
i noticed everything.
i was such a curious child and i was always scraping my knees.
then i fell over my blanket while walking, and he held
an ice-pack to my cheek and made me sit on his lap. the soothing words melted like
the ice all over my body.
i thought that maybe he loved me too much,
more than my grandmother,
more than his daughter.
i was what was inside of
he would keep me there,
pinned like a moth at the seams
my jealousy of butterflies arrived
and i took ballet at 6, stumbling
over my feet, taking the whippings
like a good girl
trying to fly
i barely ate anything, i would collapse
on the couch when i got home
i would leave letters for someone to
help me while my parents were fighting
the letters would say dear angels, please help
my mom used to take them
then later she showed it to the child psychiatrists
and i stopped eating even more
and finally i wanted to drink laundry detergent
because it was blue, ice-cold, pure
blue, like the bottom of the lake, like the end
she grabbed me by the hand then i was in a white
room with concerned stares. we played card games
like tarot cards, divining my future, tears falling
down her cheek and melting on my lips
where i vowed silence, where thousands of wings stopped
beating, and died
he tried to say that i had lied
when i thought there was nothing left
even after he passed away, when i was 12,
the soft, fetal movements of something born anew
i thought of a surgery of the soul
the idea that one day
i could remove the me that stayed inside of you
Words by anguisette
Read 913 times
Written on 2010-04-21 at 23:13
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