Text

there is a
little place
i know where
the children
pass by as
i sit and drink
coffee
my hands wrapped
around the mug
taking in its
warmth into
my cold
bones

i see them
and hear them
shriek in laughter
the little girls
in groups
giggling and telling
secrets
i wonder what they
are
does amy like
bobby or are
they talking about the
little girl with her
brown hair in braids
and scars on her
arms
the one who speaks
in a mumble
and whose
eyes dance away
to a far off
place where there
is no self
and there are
no thoughts

the pink and
white faces
surround me
a steady throb
in my head
my vision is
blurred
i stick my index
finger into the cup
of coffee and
feel the burn

last night i sat
in the bathroom
and lit a candle
i sat bent over
it for a long
time searching
for a silvery
thread of thought
that would lead to
'no'

pale eyes in
the flickering light
fork heated
black with soot
i did not flinch
except in my
mind where i
felt the slap
of his hand on
my ass
punishment you
dumb hund

i sit in the
cafe and feel
the threads of
hate weaving
themselves
i once sewed
a path of stitches
down my arm with
a black thread
needle flicking in
and out of
my flesh

i don't know
where i am
i'm lost