Crossing

For every person I threw myself at

Like a disposable napkin
Or a plastic bag
There were some
That didn’t want to use me
The yoga instructor offered his bed
But only wanted to sleep with me
With our clothes on
Held my back against his chest
Told me to breathe with him
In unison
The old roommate asked me why
I was doing this
Told me I didn’t have to be so messy
That he missed the way I used to
Stand straight
While I stumbled
And begs for his hands
The accordion player
Dropped me off at my front door
Said he had to work early in the morning
That I was still too young
That he didn’t want to repeat
The same mistake he had made
Before.
At the time I thought it was cruel
At the time I wondered
What could be so wrong with me
That I was nothing
Not even enough
To be thrown away.
That my only purpose
Was to trade my body
For company
To offer it as thanks
That I had nothing else to give
Nothing else
And I want to gather those parts of me
The ones I left behind in tall grassy fields
The ones I dropped on the way to the liquor store
And build a bridge out of bones to cross
To cover in new skin
To start again
To change my worth from anchored rubble
Into something worth crossing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s