Written On My Ribcage

I’m twenty-four years in the making; I’ve been molded and bent, sun-dried, and cured

I learned how to love through the small things; glances through stained glass, a murmur of a heart beat against my palm, stargazing at the universe in another’s eyes.

You learned through actions- The only heat in your bed at night was an afterglow of an argument, the only way you could be heard

The strength of your shoulders was tested at such a young age that you thought to be strong meant fighting, twenty-seven years of one hand tied behind your back hasn’t taught you any different

You look at life as a challenge that you’re not meant to overcome, no hope for your future, other than the searing pain from tomorrow’s sun

You were never taught that you cant touch a masterpiece, that it will crumble…

You can’t wrap one hand around my throat and love me with the other