Write– don’t think, they said
so I stripped
off a layer of myself, stepped out
of the tired costume and wrote away
the scars down her thighs, wrote off
a stomach stuffed with emotion
as boredom but I know it’s deeper,
the demons live further down.
I asked for a sickness to keep life
entertaining. It came in the form of
a double-edged sword
to twist in my side.
I asked for an addiction to keep
my demons at bay but God laughed
said It doesn’t work that way.
Friends ask what I write– I smile
not saying I haven’t written in 6 months
not saying I write about the blood on my hands
I say poetry fiction short stories memoirs