Innards

It comes back--

swift,

sudden!

Hits me

hard as blankness

in the gut—

heaviness

of solid

shame,

tremors

of

cloudy

doubt,

a single sliver 

of

icy fear.

Makes me

go cold.

I bite

my lips,

draw blood—

keep it all

away.

Guilt

at my

toe-tips

now—

remember?

Don’t/can’t

(won’t?)

forget.

Reevaluate

everything,

rewrite the story!

But-- can’t

because:

story

already

told.

Drawing

down my

skin—

hard

metallic

lies.

This “was”

still

“is”

&

“is”

has never

been

&

you don’t

deserve

other-wise.

“Have you forgiven him?”

Smells like

smooth

gin

clinking

over

glassy fear

as insecurity

mixes quietly in.

“Have you forgiven yourself?”

Hurts deep,

rich like

a throbbing

brokenness

ripped open—

display

it all

brilliantly scarlet

once more.

Comes out
aching forward,
vulnerability
of the softest
velvet. 

Tuck it back in!

How embarrassing

it still

exists.

Please,

no one

should

see this

part

of my

innards.