In the center of the white room with the wide curtain-less windows:
A woman cannot sleep, but her eyes are closed;
Normally it is her eyes that burn, now it is just her skin.
Next to her is a glass of water that is not too far away to reach,
She is just too weak to try to grab it.
For a moment she tries, and she is pulled away from the bed to hear:

“Mama?” Her mother is reading a book by candle light.
The girl has wandered away from the nursery; it is late.
Her mother at first appears frustrated, but her expression warms.
Mama gives her a small slice of treacle ****, plenty of kisses, tucks her back into bed.
In the nursery, there is a toy horse. The girl looks at it and

“Father!” The young girl laughs breathlessly,
As her father playfully taps her shoulder, passing by atop of a horse.
The young girl is learning to ride horses, although Mama doesn’t approve.
But Father believes girls should do everything that little boys do.
His face is red and handsome, and on his other side are

“Peter! Little John!” She calls out to her younger brothers.
It is time for supper and her mother sent her outside to fetch them.
She has been inside all day, learning French and practicing piano.
The young girl has very little time to play anymore, but she knows
Her brothers are hiding, begging her to play.
She starts to run and hears a shout from her

“*****!” She gasps, as her older sister pulls in her corset tighter.
Her figure is slim enough, the young girl decides. ***** pulls too much.
The girl is now a young woman and has no one to help her tie her corset,
Except *****. There is a ball tonight because ***** is getting married.
The young woman wonders about when she will get married and if his name will be

“Nathan Smith” the Priest says, smiling down upon the two young lovers.
The young woman looks bashfully up at her groom. He looks full of pride.
She wonders if Father will cry like he did at *****’s wedding.
As they recite their vows, the young woman keeps thinking about
What sort of curtains she likes and how she likes the name

“Sarah,” the young mother looks lovingly down at her newborn.
Beside her, Nathan looks once again full of caring pride.
For a moment, it feels as if it is just the three of them in the world.
The young mother is so excited and scared at the same time.
She hopes for a little boy next time and she will name him

Nothing. The baby was taken from her. She did not name the baby.
The young woman does not know if it was a boy or girl.
She trusts Nathan will name it properly, and love the child.
For a moment she wishes Nathan was there or little John or Peter.
But they are far now, like Mama, like Father, like *****.
Perhaps it is better this way.

In the center of the white room with the wide curtain-less windows,
The woman is ready to sleep;
Next to her is a glass of water that is not too far away to reach,
She is just too weak to try to grab it.
She does not try this time and she is pulled away from the bed to hear:

When I was younger, I read something that said
If you’re going to bail, bail early
And it made sense, so I became a quitter who gave up easily;
When my dad finally left my mom, I told him that
If you’re going to bail, you should have bailed earlier.

Years later, when I met a boy,
I hated myself a lot. And I warned him.
He did not seem to mind loving a broken girl,
Even someone who decided to quit so often.
I decided to not give this up.
And on my darkest nights, I told him,
If you’re going to bail, then bail.

I guess it wasn’t fair of me, to make him promise to stay.
So everyone so often, I’d tell him:
If you’re going to bail, then bail.
But he refused to, he wouldn’t bail.
Yet he gave up in every other way,
That every time I said it to him,
I was actually begging him
If you’re going to bail, then please just bail.

And 3 years later, I felt weak and still broken.
I had learned that love can’t fix your soul,
But even still weak, I felt strong enough
To tell myself it was okay, that
If you’re going to bail, it is okay to bail.

6 months later, I still wish I could tell him
It was right for me to bail
And all these feelings inside my chest
Are normal. Because I begged him to leave me
So many times and he refused just to
Not love me in the right ways.
And I’ve only told the new boy once,
And he refuses too, but he loves me more
Intensely so that I tell myself
*If you’re going to bail, don’t bail.

the worlds spilled forth from my fountain of a mouth,
and i wished to drink them back down.
the look in his eyes said it down.
tell my lungs to breathe, in out. in out. in out.

the heat swallows me whole, claiming Did you not want fire?
We must be careful what we wish for, to break ice.
I was left upon the countertop to thaw.
tell my lungs to breathe, in out. in out. in out.

ice packs for my back, sweat forming into beads that can't make necklaces.
alone in the look you had that tells me you mean the opposite.
and then i will not be saved in his keeping grace.
tell my lungs to breathe, in out. in out. in out.

I felt his hands, but they were never mine to hold.
Ironically I find myself in cracks and crannies I never expected to be.
My anger is taller than the redwood forests
And it beats louder than a drum.

If I die before I wake,
Will it still matter?
Ironically it will not.

Your ice still clings to my marrow
Will I ever thaw through?
Perhaps a little antifreeze will melt my veins.
If I lay down in the sun,
Can I break?
Will I shatter?
Glass breaks like a mirror.

It is hard to be agreeable when he touches me.
For I am thinking of your lips,
But preoccupied with his.

But I like fire better than ice,
It seems that way in the very least,
And your eyes send me chills that will not set ablaze.

And so now, I release you.
You must not think it fair,
But you will melt and I will fry.

I've been told I can talk better than write
So I tried that today,
Telling you a poem with a shaking voice,
Tearstained eyes told their own poems as I spoke.
After you hugged me like you would never let go, and a poem grew in my heart.