I haven’t touched the edges yet, but they breathe at night beside my ribs. I know I’ll scream when I find them, Until it is, Until all goes silent. If I was, When I press too hard, I crack, my hands go fists before I know they’ve curled. I am not brave. I am cornered, and pretending it’s the same thing. What if I was? Is it surrender to stay the same, or betrayal to change? Is there a third path—something unnamed, something that doesn’t taste like ash? If I was? Would I still break them? even if they try me. Even if they sink teeth into the soft of me, The sharpened replies come with bruises, And I bruise, and bruises bloom. What if I was? As bruises bloom, Heavy in my hand, Held in this greedy heart, What if I was? And maybe I already am, Or just all I am, Is this what I was, If it’s all I am? All I can be But I still wonder, alone, with my monsters curled up, Laying gently beside me What if I was?
