A Life inside of Boxes: Day Twenty-One of a Poem a Day

i.
I have compartmentalized my life into corrugated boxes.
(Sometimes, unpacking leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth.)
Most students recall their inaugural year at school with fondness.
My memories taste like apple cider and his body forced on mine.
No apologies, just the taste of blood and copper pennies in my throat.

ii.

I have compartmentalized my life into corrugated boxes.
(Each subsequent “yes” to a night of lust was a “no” wrapped around fear.)
I never knew the power of my own words as he bulldozed over every promise,
every commitment, every “no” that wobbled its way out of my mouth.
Every time I walked into a room, I felt the blade of desire at my throat, but not everyone was a gentleman.

 

iii.

I have compartmentalized my life into corrugated boxes.
(Now, I know love can be something of a dream, but before, it was one-sided desperation.)
I can feel the taste of love without feeling like an empty vessel.
The frantic kisses all over my body make me feel beautiful, not destroyed.
I can even make love instead of simply be stamped with a label marked “slut”.

Because we all know victim-shaming is real, but it’s far easier to compartmentalize the pain.

 

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