Dear Them

dear them, you are a junk yard full of scraps and dirty nails but I have already gotten my tetanus shot. and it is said that once you get sick from something you become immune to it but that is not a risk I’m willing to take.

dear them, i am sorry that i let you stain my tongue with your teeth and allowed your hands to burn holes in my skin you did not deserve the satisfaction of knowing what it felt like to feel not so sweet chocolate melting between your finger tips

dear them, just because i told you i was a virgin doesn’t mean you get to fuck me up mentally.

dear them, my mother never really was one for empathy. I know she saw the look of helplessness in my eyes. I know she knew I meant “hold me” when I choked on “I’m fine” what was she so afraid of? didn’t she recognize herself in me? my bones are her bones and my bones were breaking why wasn’t she my backbone?

dear them, you always had a way of positioning your lips that made your lies a little bit prettier

dear them, i should know by now. I should know that that feeling at the pit of my stomach isn’t gas or my friend that likes to visit for a little bit each month but it is the feeling of my insides twisting and turning dancing melodically to distract myself from the fact that I’ve been here too many times before but dammit this is it and we will tell tonight’s dinner to spell it out on the floor for you if we have to.

dear them, thank you for helping me understand that sometimes you’re 19 and you think your world is falling apart but i have come to realize that I myself am the fault line. I do not consist of a single clean fracture. I am complex. I am strong untethered rock being released from your tension your slurs your backhanded compliments your “i like you a little bit” your “you’re too much for me”. that is because I am an earthquake. I move mountains. get the fuck out of my way!

By Reese Thompson