on learning to live without her
remember that there is so much more.
there is work, and sunsets over the
skyline of a still unfamiliar city, and
black coffee steaming in the morning
mist and me, alone.
it takes more strength to not spend
the night, to sleep soundly in my
own bed, under my own blankets,
surrounded by objects of childhood
comfort, all softness and security.
it is staring at a razor, watching
the cold fluorescent light reflected
off its surface, reaching out, and
then pulling back. another silent
victory won. not with a battle cry,
but with the gentlest of sighs.
it is a cup of tea before bed, remembering
with the faintest chagrin the days
of shattered glass and whiskey shots
and coughing up my loneliness
behind locked doors. it is laughing
at the wasted years. it is moving
on. it is living without love. it
is simply living.
an examination of conscience
bless me father,
for i have sinned.
it has been a lifetime,
a few years, a month,
last night
since my last confession
these are my failures
i scream them out to the night
i rip them into the air
this unrest; this guilt
this i’m sorry this
i fucked up again
this i’m sorry i’m
sorry i’m sorry
i. envy
i wanted to be pretty.
ransacked temple of
a body pretty. the
kind of walking corpse
pretty they warn you
about in middle school
health class. i scraped
myself hollow but the
magazines lied and a
living body doesn’t
take kindly to starvation.
ii. pride
she still writes me love
letters. doesn’t know i
see them. tries her best
to forgive me. knows
that i’m not willing to
bridge that gap, not
willing to remember
the way her lips painted
me whole, washed me
clean, absolved me,
pulled God from the
dirt. i hide from her
heartbreak.
iii. avarice
it is so easy to take.
to take advantage
of every kindness,
rifling through
drawers, cabinets,
shelves, with a hunger
so primal i wonder
why no one ever
hears me howl.
the humiliation of
every sense screaming,
find the drugs.
iv. gluttony
avarice has a twin sister.
this is a hole that
will never be filled, a
need carved into my
being by years of
never being enough.
drowning myself in
overdose, again;
this is loneliness, this
is desperation, this is
consumption this is despair
this is addiction.
v. wrath
there is no taste so
sweet as violence.
the feeling of being
alive, heart jumping,
breath uncontrolled,
skin ripping open and
it’s better than orgasm.
violence done to oneself.
violence done in secret.
violence that brings greater
catharsis than any embrace.
vi. lust
i spread myself open again.
squeeze my eyes shut,
wait for it to end, hating
every second of this but
never stopping. never
asking his name. never
saying no. waiting for
someone to make the
memories stop, but his
face is still the only one
i see.
vii. sloth
and now this. my deepest
shame. not what i have done,
but what i have failed to do.
she was young and beautiful
and under my protection.
she was my responsibility,
so why i did i say nothing,
do nothing, feel nothing
when i watched a stranger
lead her away? how did
i have the strength to
half carry, half drag her
home but not have the
courage to save her?
these are my failures.
this is my sin. i beg
to be forgiven, i scream
acts of contrition at myself
and i wait
for absolution
amen.
Gabrielle is a staff member at Persephone’s Daughters who is currently attending Vanderbilt University in Nashville, TN. She is a biomedical engineering student with a lot on her mind.