A Woman Waking

Every heartbeat shakes my whole body, the veins breaking lose from this fragile cage of bone and flesh. I’m a vibrating cord, a whip snap, the crack of lightening, the flash, the promise of flame. I am disaster and the eye of the storm, sitting here with acid dripping from my fingertips. And no one knows, no one feels this, the shaking, the fire, the storm.

I’ve felt destruction hang it’s aura ‘round my hands, the heady urge to ravage and consume, to tear the very moorings from this simple life I’ve tethered myself too. I want to walk away from a smoking ruin with nothing left to hold me. I want to step into the void, the unknown, and taste freedom.

I want the slow creep of dark ice, the steady rise of black tides, the event horizon, the final descent. I want a mind of blades and shadow, a heart of stone, a body of deft control and precise movement. Not this rattle-bent and broken brain, awash with fear and regret, not this scar riddled flesh that speaks of insecurities and inadequacies gifted upon me by those who were supposed to love me.

I am not a soft, gentle thing. I’ve been built of razor blades and barbwire, star thistle and cat claws, shadow and sun fire. I used to scream the words, now they are whispered into the shadows of my cupped hands, face buried to muffle my brokenness.

There are worlds inside me, tied down, hidden beneath.

And what have I given myself?

Lead shoes to sink with, instead of robin wings to fly.

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