Author’s Note: WIP

Battlefield

I am sorry I relapsed.
I am sorry my every word is a question mark,
Every action, every gesture, a subconscious copy-and-paste.
I still enunciate the ‘t’ in shit because my ex does it every time,
Even though I haven’t seen them in months.
I am mean to my friends because it’s the only way I know how to interact with the world.
I laugh just like my aunt because she’s fucking cool.
I am sorry I am a vampire,
Fed off my lovers’ misery to take it away from me.
I am sorry everything I know about myself comes from the outside,
Worthless genius dying – through the lenses of my old friends’ eyes.
The only reason I know I exist is because my phone rings some nights but
Too much time alone makes me a ghost.
I am sorry I am only fragments of a woman,
My existence is a list of symptoms strewn across my living room.
I am sorry I relapsed
I am sorry my brain is a battlefield between each instance of myself wielding sharp-winged butterflies and (frankly, phallic) cannons.
I am sorry I’ve been at war for so long and forgot how to fight,
The blood-soaked ground sends tremors through my vulva.
If I could take back the million times I’ve left my water bottle at work or my wallet on the counter or my body in the middle of the road, I would.
I am sorry I let you win,
But I assure you, it will not happen again.
I will bear my self-inflicted scars like a badge of honor,
Break my vocal cords against war cries,
Unite myself against a common enemy,
Tie ourselves together with twine and duct tape –
I am a survivor of myself –
You will not bury me today.

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