Concrete Children

We’re all running away from something.

it is never your fault.

their hands are only their hands. they are not trip wire

that can be set off by your tongue. or your actions.

or your mistakes.

their bodies are only their bodies. they do not disobey

their owners or forget to follow orders.

their decisions are only their decisions.

you did not make them do this.

in one breath
like all these lowercase letters strung together
as if they are the middle of a sentence and never the
beginning i am a continuation of every beautiful accident
that cultivated this universe this body has been gathered in
pieces from every being that came before me this mind has
been shaped by the rivers that my people traversed this air
wandering in and out of my form has traveled an entire earth
how can i not be overwhelmed by the way i am nothing more
than a piece of everything

i know that i’m hardly here long enough
to unravel the mess of it all.
but this morning, i wake up as if life herself wants me
because, maybe, it’s true.
this is how i remember to want myself

we met at the edges of ourselves
broken down, weather-worn minds
and bodies clothed so deceptively in youth
we met at the peripheries of ourselves
pushed out of our own skins
by all the demons that had settled
comfortably in our
wakeful hazy thoughts
and yet somehow
you and all your closeness
me and all my questions
we and all our tangled stories
became a road map deciphered together
where we learned the art of
tracing our steps backward
to find our way home

moonlight moves in waves
through the darkened alleys
beneath my chest
illuminated by your love

i want to get better
but i’m in the habit
of scrubbing the walls
clean only to redecorate
identically.
of running for so long
i somehow end up
where i started.
of returning
to all the places
that hurt

i’ve tried boarding up the windows
with deep breathing and changing
all the locks on my thoughts but
when anxiety moves into my body
i am pushed out onto the street
with nothing but a box of crushed
courage and a few flimsy distractions
to hold me over until she decides it is
time to leave

think about it
i am told to stop
thinking so much
and i wonder why
it is that in order to
survive in this world
i must not use
my mind

quiet tongue heavy head