childhood landscape mud on my knees
church bells, awaiting altar, expectant
in the wings, performance, step by step
choreography, before school, ageless
stripped of age, barefaced, spoonful of acidity
*
she calls me a liar
because she lied to herself
a long time ago
*
she wants nothing to do with the truth
she said her goodbyes
buried it, burned it, shunned it
into non-existence
*
and I look at her
puzzled
amazed
enraged
*
flames in her head
*
and who breaks my bones?
*
I latch myself onto strong people
because I trusted you when you called me weak
and I realised
and realised
that the strong people that I sought out
were as weak as you were
and that I had been strong all along
*
if you managed to make me think
that I had no willpower, no strength,
you could do anything
to me
for me?
*
and I let you roam through my body
I have always lived in a fantasy world
*
and you entered it
placed yourself at the crime scene
without wiping the dirt off your feet
*
I stared at adults
and wondered what went on in their heads
everything they left unsaid
marked their faces
over time
and I love to read
*
what they think about the most
never makes it out of their mouths
Croque-Melpomene 