I stepped out the room chocking on a child in my throat. Entrapped and claustrophobic. Impatient.
I swallow to push her back. Her hands force my jaws to part before I could reach the car door. She screams. She wails. It was more of a shriek that came out of her but took the energy of my whole body to bear.
Im reminded that I’m not in my car nor the comfort of my own place. I’m with family and they’ve heard me. The neighbourhood has heard me.
Her time was due and I pushed her over the limit. I confined her in this little prison called my ribcage.
It’s manageable to be flawed alone with the comfort of your own four walls but it’s terribly shameful to be seen so fragile. Terribly shameful to be in pain so audibly and without control.
I withdrew to my car. Locked myself in. locked her in before the flood of family came by. It was joy and humiliation to see that I was cared for. That I mattered.
and I cried for the love I haven’t gotten as a kid and the love I have now
I cried for the used hands and my used skin and body
I cried for the pain of men leaving without a word as if I never was and never will
I cried for the loathe I harbored for myself and the shame i carried
I cried for my silent smiling lips
I cried for my lonesome, lonesome soul
I cried until the hurt was manageable
I took a moment to breathe
got out the car with tears and hair still stuck on my face. Walked into the kitchen
They got me a seat and we ate
jokingly and lovingly we ate
and I was okay for the time being
until the girl decides to shriek.