I found my hands in disarray under the covers

And used them to arrange the chaos of screams

Neatly under my lungs.

when I glued my voice back together

it sounded like broken glass.


No one cared until they saw I'd tied knots

In everything you'd left behind.


I curled up in my curtains and sang lullabies to help loosen

the death grip I had around Mr. snuggles' neck.

The one about the falling baby was my favorite, soothing my ears

after the constant abuse of questions that were supposed to prove

the rest of them were concerned –

Thank hallelujah when they realized I wouldn't say a word.


I didn't understand why you had to go away,

and when you came back, it was only for a little while.

I was seven, distrusting

and hurt.


I'd deny it if you said I was bitter,

Yet would you take it personally if I said

It was all your fault?