v u l v a l i c i o u s
bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh
The city is relentless. Wheels turning over highway tar and potholes, with the sound of a horn in the distance. You'd think it means there's an end in sight, but it's only a stall out. And everyone wants to keep moving.
I want to stand in one place and not feel afraid.
There will be a time when I don't believe that the world is out to get me. That the cold air is a knife and the street light shadows are a gun. That I won't rehearse a plea with a robber. rapist. killer. asshole. as I walk home at night.
My time turns into a place. The place is always not here. Non-specific, safe, easy. Anywhere but where I am now.
I wish and wish. And wish. But I won't I won't. And when there's a pattern, I want it to be different. But it's always want and wish. And then won't. My personal passive voice.
I ache for change as I inch away from it. The ache feels like fear and the fear feels like panic and the panic is dread. I turn my thoughts away as soon as I can. Change can't come if I won't let it.
In this city, I am no more alone than anywhere else.
In my body, I am as alone as I always have been. At the end of the night, it's me that's there. I'll be taking care of me tonight and tomorrow and every tomorrow. Somehow there's a way to remember that, to keep it and grow it and make it my center. To love myself as I love others, and champion myself as I champion those I love.