Autobiography
By
    Photo from Pixabay / Licensed under Creative Commons

    At the end of a movie

    You wait for him to turn back

    To look at her

    To smile

    To realize how foolish everything is


    She is a sunset

    Pushing the weight of the moon and the stars down

    Down

    Hoping to hold onto this ending

    For just a little while longer


    She is a bruise

    The purple kind on your legs

    The type where you don’t even know

    How they got there

    But here they are


    Purple suits you

    Purple, like her aura

    The color that carries secrets in small denim pockets

    Or her father’s arms after blood tests

    Or her abuelo’s face as the Parkinson’s screamed for us to let go


    I’m still holding on.


    Soft cotton sheets

    Bright eyes, swallowing the world

    Tired, heavy, silent by six

    Sitting in the car with him and him

    Listening to the outcries of wild youths

    In love with complexity and how easy it is to fall from fences when you’re only looking down


    I chipped my nail on scotch tape

    I chipped my skin washing dishes

    I chipped my tooth when I fell on the kitchen table

    People think I break my own soul for fun

    I don’t


    Sometimes it’s so easy to be curious

    To crave perfection

    That if there is one crack

    Then we must start over


    Right?

    Right?

    Right?

    Wrong.


    My shoes are covered in paint

    So I can remember where I’ve been

    I often mix up memories with dreams

    Forgive me if I feel like I know you

    Maybe it really all was a dream

    Whether you are real

    Or if I am real

    I will open you like the forget-me-nots in early spring

    And keep you open with broken glass


    I am my mother’s nose

    My father’s pride

    Her exhaustion

    His anxiety

    Wrapped in white

    Topped with untouched Prozac

    Waiting

    Waiting


    My lungs are mosaics of everyone I have met

    Open your hands

    I promise it won’t hurt


    Turn around

    Look me in the eye

    Remind me who you are

    Which piece of glass did I leave in you?

    If it’s still jabbing you

    You didn’t know me long enough

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