I often forget how damaged I am, bluffing my way through life with an over rehearsed self confidence to hide my vulnerabilities. But when I am reminded, all the tiny broken pieces of me stab the back of my eyes and my rebel heart raises its hackles like a frightened cat. Fragments of my dusty soul attack itself from the inside out and crawl underneath my skin leaving splinters of bad memories to poison my veins once more. The bitter taste of someone else’s words hit the back of my mouth like a swarm of bees building their hive, making a new home as a lump in my throat that can’t decide if it needs to come up or go down. Then my swollen tongue licks away the memory of a resisted kiss hiding upon honey bee lips, stinging from the thoughts swirling in my arteries, turning my heartbeat into a drum kit at a rock and roll concert. The face of the drummer is blurry, buried deep in the stillness of my mind, his drumsticks have metal blades, held to my neck to hold me still. Arms pinned to the cold ground where he gave me these nightmares. But no, I will not allow the echoes of reality to play out their song. No, I will not be dragged again to that dark alleyway. No, the word written on my face that night, no, two letters embossed upon my skin left bruised and aching. No, a little word not understood by so many.

I will grab hold of these sharp edges of painful memories and use them to carve a path straight to my dreams.

© Michelle Schaper 2016