Discordant

It's a dark secret you carry with you. Oh, your beautiful darkness. It's a dark secret you carry with you: that you liked it. That you miss it. That you'd rather be reduced to ash from a sudden electrical fire than the burden of living with someone else and constantly feeling the pressure and expectation of filtering everything about you through them. It's a dark secret you carry with you, that steady power - though you need it and you know that - does nothing for you. Give me the body-melting current that comes from seeing a live wire on the asphalt in an alley and picking it up. Light or dark current, I don't care; I just want to be melted. The way it was to try and pull control-top pantyhose up with three inch long acrylic nails - painted Vamp, of course - and failing. Poking holes into the third new pair today, knowing I just had to get through the guest party and there you'd be - happy to sicken me by my weakness. My heart filled with so much grief I only knew how to behave badly. Your heart filled with so much emptiness you only knew how to be mine in small moments: walking past the scheduling desk, getting out of my car, cowboy-booted, bare leg first in the chalky Phoenix sun, floating over the hot asphalt, you asking me if I wanted to go to Subway. All innocence, shredded lettuce and no memory of who's car we took. Maybe mine. Probably yours. Me and my malicious. You didn't belong in my passenger seat - it felt discordant every time you set yourself down. Me and my malicious. It's a dark secret I carry with me.

This came out when I gave my body a voice inside Body Writers, my somatic writing and healing circle. Learn to give your body a voice here.