like a butterfly.
Affixed in place with thorax piercing pain.
Paralyzed and broken,
while the warp and weft of the carved background
tattoos it's imprint on my heart.
Shivers of unrequited lust for air and light rack the slender frame.
Why didn't I die and leave a beautiful 9 year old carapace
to collapse into dust in an airless trophy space?
Or did I ?
Once someone razes your soul are you owned by them ?
Do you exist except for a lascivious slurp and a wink? Or
can you come to life much later
as a spark of color drifting in the gloaming.
Just as fragile and almost as beautiful .
What do you mean? she said…
What do you mean you feel like you've been pinned like a butterfly?
In the journey toward health I hope to reunite my mind and body. We travel around together but are wholly separate; and it seems to me that changes in my body have left me vulnerable to attack. After I brought up the R-word with my medical counselor she asked a couple of casual sounding questions.
Childhood sexual abuse ... Yes? And how about physical abuse? ... Yes. OK, the group meetings are not group therapy. Oh no. I wouldn't inflict on them... Don't worry.