Twisted Peace

a poem that still hurts

Everything inside me
twists up,
hangs out
beside me
as some sort of
engrained, habituary
preservation of me.

And I suppose
I know
in every bone
the taste and
the texture
of this anciently
fresh pain.

A cacophony
of voices in my brain
screaming and softening,
questioning and condemning
me to an enternity
of splintering
between

the life I didn't choose.
I escaped and
I chose to save and
the costs, the burden
might take me
to my grave.
I concede.

I deserve,
I've earned
peace.
I've earned peace.
Breathe
and be
peace.

This poem is from the book, Healing: Cum and Dance.

Photo by Alexi Romano on Unsplash