A Body Is A Terrible Vessel For A Soul
I have never demanded perfection
Not even from myself
Some wounds begin in the flesh and end in the soul
It is why I cry over spilled milk
And when a story pierces through the veil
Ghosts do not only haunt you from the outside
Some of them live under my fingernails
And make my nose bleed
Others escape my mouth when I tell the truth
And there is no one there to believe me
How many times have I tried to
Find myself in the gaze of another
Too afraid to look in the mirror
Unrecognizable
Even to my own shadow
Most of the time
A story is not mine to share
Other times
No story is sufficient
No matter how many times I backtrack
And see the same lights
The same roads
The same hands
The same soft voice that whispers
“Did this really happen like this?”
A body is a terrible vessel for a soul
Bones snaps
Skin bleeds
Hearts break
Years feel like days
And then we die
