The Anatomy of a Broken Person

By Mina Talebi, TIWP student

I don’t want to talk to you when I’m sad.

I’m afraid that my tears might rise to ceiling
And the lights will flicker
And my lungs will shudder
And I don’t want you there when I drown.
Maybe my sobs will shake my body
So hard
That my ribs begin to snap
And you’ll be able to reach inside my chest and pull them out
Run your fingers over them like the keys of some twisted piano,
Sway to the wails it creates.
I don’t want you to learn how to play.
Then,
Perhaps,
I’ll dig my fingernails so deep into my skin
That there will be holes straight through.
And at school the next day,
The counselor will yell at me
And ask you why you never stopped me.
I don’t want you to carry that shame.
Maybe my throat will close from all the screaming
And my bloodshot eyes will go blind.
Maybe I won’t hear you trying to pull me back,
Maybe we’re out of time.
And I don’t want to talk to you when I’m sad
Because I know
My voice will crack
And pull me down
Into the crevice it creates in the earth,
And I’ll look to you while I’m falling down,
And I’ll wonder
‘Did you ever even hear a sound?’

I don’t want to talk to you when I’m sad,
The cracks in my heart will only grow.
I don’t want to talk to you when I’m sad.

You need to let this go.

Advertisement

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s