A thread on recuperating. For the ones dealing with long-buried memories and healing from old wounds.

It was your smile but it was also the reasons you smiled. Time made a fool of me and it took me awhile to realise I wasn’t one of those reasons.

Goodbye, never the kindest of words. You brought it into the realm of cruel by not even saying it. And I had left, hooked into poisonous questions, holding the word BREAKUP, like a dead baby that no one wanted. I wish you had at least given us a burial.

I've counted years that passed in holes I've plugged, papering over cracks of my self esteem with paper planes. They say you're a new person every seven years. All cells replaced, I've been speeding that along.

Prising off parts of me that you touched. Hot water showers to burn away your fingerprints on my skin, turning wounds into tattoos. I shaped the holes inside me, into words. I gave them form and let them loose as paper planes.

The shreds of my self-esteem, I wove into a coat of anger, made you poetry. For years I’ve filled in the gaps that you left behind. The wounds you left on my psyche, my body, puckered into scars, hidden by tattoos carried away the pain & turned into art.

So long have I spoken for you in proxy, a ventriloquist talking with a dummy in my head, with your name and face, that when I ran into you recently. Look at me saying that, like I’d say I ran into a stranger. But you are.

You’re shorter than I remember. Leaner. Our conversation is the wake after a funeral, attended only by ghosts.

The paper plane is a philosophy. I’ve lost weight in some places. Gained some. I don’t fit your boxes anymore. You have nothing to do with the ventriloquist’s dummy in my head. You don’t even look like him.

Time, this time an ally, was the decent chap you weren’t. My insides don’t recognise you anymore. My body is the canvas for your cruelty no more.

The devil has changed his address. There is no room for you here. Nobody remembers you or cares. Closure can come from a closed door. Or an accidental sighting and no conversation. Hell doesn't sit here anymore. 

You are not home anymore.

This thread called RECUPERATE is also posted here:

https://www.instagram.com/p/B_pzzpXpTUP/?igshid=9dyh274vgem0