If you ask me if I was whole,
I’d say yes
even though I’m only half of what I was,
I tossed the remaining portions into sleepless tides
(you are where your heart lays)
so you could never break me completely.
 

Do not fall in love
with the wrong side of the ocean,
no matter how beautiful,
the seas will not give mercy,
and hurricanes will tear the laughter from your eyes.
 

I’m mending from my own words
(second chances are never the same).
I’m still learning to unravel your thoughts from my shoulders,
eyes plastering me in labels I know I’m not,
substituting euphemisms as truths
that seem less harsh.
This time, I will fight to break free
from the names that have molded me.
 

I’m still learning to destroy
cocoon cages that constrain me.
(You can never entirely undo what has been done.)
I could never be dependent upon
wings that dragged me down,
so I learned to weave my own.
 

I’m still

          under construction:

          do not attempt to carry the world
          with two hands and no support
          like the girl with the spindly legs,
          she will collapse
          and you will both

         
          drown.

I don’t want to be a burden with my weighted thoughts.

Remind me that my skin is only a part of me that I’ll leave behind
because sometimes my lungs forget to breathe.

Time is creasing,
I’m shedding pieces of myself along with every wrinkle,
that one day I’ll walk away with new wings
and no names to bind me.

Someday I’ll bury my corpses under forgotten promises
and remember what it’s like to become whole again.