on the floor
~Alexandra Mushinski
i remember the ache in my chest when you yelled at me the first time
momentary closure of any potential for
love in retribution
maybe my habits of risky behavior were too much
i didnt feel scared so why should i stop?
if i get hurt so what?
selfish
i struggle to feel the ways in which love equates to personal
responsibility
i know the spaces in between so intimately
fear of becoming
what made me
has made me
into something quite the same
anger is what i fear most how could i not tear
myself
apart at its
discovery in my
heart?
sometimes i want to escape my body
in the worst moments i have
floating on the horizon of my own vision
looking down at my cold stiff frame
reminds me of closing out the
meat locker in the back of the
midnight diner
everything looks scary frozen
suspended in air too cold for my lungs
takes a while to come back
to fall down into the flesh and bone of reality
crashing through my sharp distended ribs into my soft
belly
the sting of landing wells into my sinuses and tear ducts and knocks
me flat back on the floor
now i know how to jump up when i fall
i used to blame myself
lessons learned
the time i saw
you for the first
time
after knowing you for years
having held you too close to realize
i’d never seen your face
before
lessons learned
eviscerating my heart did
not make it more real
sacrifice is not a condition of love
i
wanted
so
badly
to be
put
first
i thought if i put myself last somebody would see
in spite of my self depicted
monstrosity
i wanted so badly
to be wanted
that i stopped wanting myself
i can’t hold it against
a stranger
to me now and always
it hurts as much to
admit
holding
tenderness
a vessel
a memory of the furthest i’ve
ever gone
i thought i was invincible after you
six months
driving
after i’d left through
the city
coming down
the buildings all turned see through
invisible walls
invisible lines
invisible boundaries
pass right through the curtain
unnoticed
so unseen
i wanted to scream from the treetops
lay myself bare in the streets
fell heavy like a punch in
the gut
lessons learned
you don’t have to be on the edge of a cliff
to be loved
● not all questions are alarm bells
● not all lines were drawn straight
i
used to
lose
belongings
to practice
letting
go
an earring abandoned in the staff parking lot
a bag forgotten in the corner of the third floor studio
a shirt left in an old friends bathroom
regret not holding on to what i found
in their place
softness
of the pajama top you let me borrow
on my way home
how i wish
i’d held you more gently
i don’t want to want so much
that i forget to see what’s in front of
me
i’m tired
of finding
comfort longing
from an arm’s
length
safety
in not knowing
to reach out
a little further
easier to convince myself of false beauty with an empty promise
to hold on to
does love have to look beautiful to be true?
awkwardness of vulnerability
tilts in my solar plexus
throws off my balance
long to stand on both feet
stay still in place
beside someone
fear of misunderstanding
frays my edges
like a sewn on shadow
how could you know me if you’ve never heard me speak?
used to think people could feel
what i was thinking
spent so long wanting a different life
i stopped selling my own
used to be
shy now i’m
just choosy
strength in the autonomy
i’ve learned to love
my slowly aging body
my room looks different each morning at first glance
the comfort in
chaos
change
disorder
reorder
i like it when my bed is made
my stuffed animals spooning in a line
i like it when my clothes
bags
makeup compacts
coat the carpet floor
i like how your
picture still hangs on
my wall in the same spot
its stayed in for years
i’m trying to be kinder to the people that surround me
i’m trying to be kinder to myself
