I’ve walked the plank so many times,
I could have been a ballerina.
dancing on guilt trip wires because
I’m graceful when head over heels, tumbling
“Look Ma! no hands!”
Look what he did, Ma, they’re broken:
promises written on bones too heavy to carry this far out to sea
So I drop anchor where dreams go to die.
I lie, dead still,
his name chiseled off my back with an ice pick
because I needed to make holes to breathe again.
Perhaps if he had a backbone
I would not need to carve my own.
It costs too much and I should be
saving the tears inside cups for him to drink and forget
the time the water broke me open,
spilling hopes when no hands were on
deck to stop memories from seeping
through the cracks where our smiles used to be mine!