Spoiled BonesTrauma Wars
My heart is staining my white sheets.
Bleeding from the core wounds reopened.
The words we hurled
at eachother hurt
far less
than the pain of pretending
these very words weren't true.
For weeks.
Months.
3 years
of playing ping pong with our traumas.
You send detachment my way,
I'll bounce conditions
to your side of the table.
Make sure and update the score board
so we can record
who's victorious in this
uphill battle.
The perfect victim.
Subject to the cruel shortcomings of their impractical partner.
Is it you
or I?
Or is it possible this wasn't a game,
but a dance.
A beautifully disastrous tango of expectations vs. blockages?
Our clumsy feet
stomping toes and pinning heels
building latent resentment
without acknowledgment
of the scuffs on our own shoes.
We created this mess together,
then threw one another the towel.
Not realizing
two hands mend broken things
much more efficiently than one.
written by Magyn Kennedy
