Biology or Prison

I look at you and notice
The cells we’ve made
(Or found)
That contain us

Alone. I look at my hands
And wonder if they’re strong enough
To break my cell
And everyone else’s too.
A hand that prides itself on softness.

When I close my eyes,
The cell remains.
When I breathe for myself,
The cell dissolves.
Let me catch my breath for a moment.
Let me feel that I am temporary.

/michal

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Uncovering / Recovering

I have filled myself with others’ stories.
Stories to avoid my own.
Stories to carry,
to ponder,
to listen to on repeat in my own head late at night,
when I am forgetting to be writing my own.

Stories of pain
and difficulty and happiness and
memories, felt or lost or forgotten
until they are told out loud.

I have been overflowing with other selves
I absorbed, mistakenly
trying to fit them into my own concave interior,
a container to be filled and shipped
somewhere far. I yearn to lock
and steal these stories inside of me,
take them to a new place where I might bury them,
and as I dig their grave, in the soil I find
myself, waiting to be lifted out and taken home.

/michal