Learning to reclaim my heartbeat
From the feeling of his hunger.
From being a scratched pillowcase, words whispered to in the dark,
stained with stuttered nouns
And translucent adjectives:
I was unedited from the singular he made me to be.
Sweltering red lines
zigzag across my back
Thighs, neck. Marked
and now
There are too many grammatical errors.
I was resigned to never being rectified.
Section by section I
Jigsawed
Pieces of me until I could sew together a tapestry threaded
With concrete descriptors of my own
Volition.
Cocooned in my own insecurities
It was a sorrowful smile snaking its way across my face.
Warmed by my own angry joy,
I became me.
2 thoughts on “Hey Nique”