there was a woman who lived
in a glass box
there were no doors or windows,
chains, or locks
she smiled and cried
she watched flowers bloom
and die
she read poetry
and dreamed of romance
on occasion
she danced

but always
she touched glass
hoping for isolation to pass
she longed for warm fingers
and peaceful embrace
for the box to be lifted
to kiss a man’s face
she’s still there now
with gentle grace
wondering if love will ever come
to this place

a little rest
to deal with the stress
and too much pain
don’t go insane

when I was 9, I was in an abusive relationship with a gymnastic center
they didn’t care if you were hurt, tired, sick
they didn’t care if you were scared
or unable to safely perform high degree of difficulty moves
these were the days of Kerri Strugg vaulting to gold on a broken ankle
I spent hours a day in that gym, four to six days a week during the summer
I competed, I won ribbons, trophies, medals
I had boxes of these things
too many to set on a shelf or hang on a wall

when I wanted to switch gyms
my mom made me go in by myself to tell them
I was 9
the mean old lady in the office who smelled like smoke and death told me no
I don’t remember her logic
only that she emphatically told me I couldn’t quit
I don’t remember how I responded
with meek fear, I imagine
I did leave that day though, never to return
it would be 3 more years before I left the sport altogether
with destroyed knees and emotional trauma
I was supposed to go to college on gymnastics scholarships
my parents had invested
they almost moved the whole family to another state for a gym that boasted Olympic athletes
quitting was the hardest thing I had ever done
walking away from abuse is never easy
even less so for a child whose life was defined by bullying, manipulation, and emotional neglect
I remember my coach asking me once if I’d eaten a whole pizza and gallon of milk the night before
I was too young to understand why he was asking but the disdain came across clearly

my dad never spoke to me about quitting
I could only imagine the disappointment

I’m used to a lack of support
judgement, criticism, bullying
I have more memories of those coaches and kids than my parents and sister,
they started me at 3, I joined the competitive team at 7, and the other girls were years older than me
I’m used to feeling alone and facing things alone
I’m used to emptiness
I’m used to one sided relationships and keeping things to myself
I’ve rarely felt anything else
there were brief interludes
a relationship in high school, a good boss for a few years
but I don’t feel strong today
I don’t feel independent in a healthy way
lately I just feel tired
my heart hurts
and life seems too long

I don’t know where he is
or what he’s doing
or who he’s with
I don’t know anything
I’m just
alone

I thought Barbie would make me feel better
but it did not
maybe because I wore blue

I like your pretty new car
I wish it didn’t take you so far
away
everyday I wish on a star
that you would stay close in my har
t

please keep my heart safe
while I stitch a thicker skin