My journey to purification began on a night where I pretended like you didn't exist.
I denounced myself a pagan of memories,
turned your forgotten words into forbidden hymns,
embraced them in my mouth before I climbed into bed,
and used them to sing myself to sleep
in all of the hours before I did not dream of you.
It was like burning a house with memories in it,
because you need the ashes to reconstruct a new one.
It was like holding your breath even when you're not in water,
because you have experienced drowning and do not want to risk it again.
I kept on telling myself that this was peace- leaving you was not enough so I had to leave myself as well.
Here is a version of me not at war with you- here is a version that is telling itself nothing has changed even though it is barely existing.
Here is a version moving violently around with nothing to restrict it- here is a version dancing whimsically alone.
Here is a version so small it cannot be stampeded on- here is a version so small it cannot hear its own heartbeat.
Here I am trying to struggle free of you,
Fighting myself so that you don't have a chance to.
But as the days go by,
I am hoping only my cocoon loved you.
And the self- inflicted scars will one day stop belonging to me
And,
belong to some other shell,
restricting the body of,
some other boy.
It is a trial to be free when you are an addict of the prison that held you.
I've been teaching myself about how wrong I am-
That I was not born to make a home out of love,
I am too poignant and sensitive
And cannot belong to anything.
Though the chains may be comfortable,
I need to sacrifice ecstasy so I can find a new lifestyle that is not inspired by their heaviness.
I need to find real fulfillment before it's too late.
Before the chains leave me instead of me leaving them-
Before I'm forced to gallop into any new home I see because I was never prepared enough to be able to stand alone.
I want to forget the way I lived for you,
I want to burn everything without feeling the need to say sorry.
Why must I wait for your forgiveness when everytime I find the urge to reconcile myself,
I'm forced to choke out apologies before I even act on anything.
Why must I lie awake unsure of the future,
Seeing things smaller than you trying to fill a void they won't fit in,
Holding me down so that I cannot be bigger than them.
I know now that I am susceptible to allurement as intensely as a mirror susceptible to light,
Because I am now a reflection of a love I barely experienced.
I stay awake in my sheets every night - praying for my own forgiveness,
Even when I have the ability,
To turn things that don't even hurt me into punishments.