Marcela Bolivar
My authenticity,
Though not imbued by you,
Is recognized by no other
At least not without some
Measure of aversion
I might be prettier
If I had more
Than one expression ,
But a single admission
Could break me entirely
There are wolves
Bargaining for flesh
In the rooms of every
Unattended child
Better that you know
The consequence
Of silence
I am not worth
My weight in wool
I do not suffer more or less
But if I told you
Half of what I know
I am sure you’d look
The other way
Some days it’s just not okay
To remember
But it’s what I’ve forgotten
That dissipates the peace within
Did I create nightmares
Of the prosaic?
Am I just a cemetery flower?
Or did I stand too close
To the Devil
And witness something
I shouldn’t have?
Does anyone wish
They could forgive me
But find in my eyes
An inconsolable vacancy?
I wear gloves
Whenever we hold hands
So that our identities
Won’t collide
Am I alone again
Or just screening?
*
Encase you wonder about the poem it goes back and forth from childhood to adulthood relationship issues that result from being abused.
mindlovemisery 