Twenty One.

where infinity gave way to white hospital walls

memories upon a life suspended

pretty little playground of my own

a word. a sentence. a paragraph.

gifted, they said. I believed it.

the world had defined insecurity

then daddy dearest left for the war

when he came back it wasn’t the same.

I’m learning to want what I don’t have

But how to live and bottle and pretend.

I still think I’m meant for greater things

If only I could be like those girls...

I’m crying at lunch on the bathroom floors

gained 10 pounds and then lost 35

my best friend taught me how to die

and how to waste away quietly

but then things get better for a while.

just one more year just one more year -

college. first year made of sunshine and alcohol

and then I fell in love; it broke me.

I’m trying to pick up the pieces.