Letters to a Wound

 
   Paddox,
 
    I'll pretend I don't know you're slicing up your wrists again. I'll turn my cheek while you're under the tracks, injecting addiction into your veins. Lie about the monument with me, and we'll be fine.
    Let's continue in strife--"building up"--while we're drowning in the quick. I'll confide in you about my deepest fears, while you'll exploit me-like I'm sick.
   I'll purse my lips and place them on your cheek. You'll force glass into the sides of me. I will nurse you like a house of broken bones; I will declare you "home."
   You'll chip away at my self-worth, until I'm left with none.
   I will expect more out of you than you are capable of giving. To me, you'll be a demi-god. I will make it impossible for you to fail me. And when you do? I'll make sure I criticize you until you weep.
    I will constantly put you on a pedestal; you'll be cast in pretty lighting.
    I will drown you in all of my thoughts and emotions. You'll pretend to care; you'll give me terrible advice-in hopes that I will take it and destroy my life.
   I will flood you with information about my weaknesses. And when you abandon me? I will make sure you have enough ammunition to make me transparent.
  I will sew you up with needles and thread when you come back with insincere apologies. I will ice your bruises, I will kiss your head. I'll even sacrifice our bed. You can sleep in it. I'll take the floor. That is something a friend would do.
  You'll trash my music. Then you'll steal all of it, and sell it for drugs. When you're not selling it for drugs, you'll sell it for food money.
  When you are gone for days on end, I'll cover for you. I'll lie--because that is what a good friend does. I will wash your bras, and your "Thursday" panties. I will bleach your Wonder Woman p.j.s that are stained with my leftovers. I'll pretend I don't know that it is you that has been stealing my food.
 You will lie to my face; I will let you.
 When you hook up with my ex-boyfriend, I will drown myself in Pepto Bismol to soothe the knots in my stomach. I will start using medicated face wash to shrink the knots in my face. I will always act excited when you come back around, and we'll take road trips together. Our pictures will always be perfectly edited. And we will always be beautiful.

 

   Along a speckled and crystalline Richland Avenue, I feel the softer spaces of my skin sinking into the ridged holes of a worn-in street bed. I observe the bell tower-clamoring high, proclaiming its promises in the clear throat of a crisp, October sky. There are canopies here, of amber and of rouge, of umber and of emerald. Light peaks through their negative spaces; it explores and observes the crevices and veins of shed foliage.

The stark trees already dread the winter-
Where they,
Like bare children,
Will wait in anticipation

For their May headdresses-
With only whistling winter songs to sing,
And nowhere else to go.