Saturday 24 September 2016

On Being Left

On Being Left
By Helen Birmingham

With my eyes closed
I stare at you.
Unblinking.

Did I pull the words from your mouth like vomit, and then
Watch them pierce my flesh.
Watch as each hole.
Each scar,
Each wound,
Bled with your words?

Your sentences drew blood from my lip, as I
Writhed and fought to keep hold of you.
But when you were done with me
You simply snipped the thread, and
Walked
Away.

I know.
You made me beautiful.
So who scribbled onto my beauty
With these scratches, scars, knots and tangles?

In our white box with padded walls
So many words were stitched.
Now everything is black knotted thread.
And with my eyes closed,
I stare at you.
Unblinking.