Aphrodite

28

I'm telling myself that I'm stronger now.

It's hard.

To kiss my wounds brings their sting to the forefront of my mind.

It lingers in my thoughts, in my heart,

In my mouth.

Funny. You linger there, too.

These days, you're an artifact.

You're ancient, clouded with dirt and grime.

I know the past can't hurt me.

I dust you off and ruminate on you.

Painful history comes to life in an instant.

You're a natural disaster.

You came, took your victims, left with costly damage in your wake.

I sift through the rubble and pick up the pieces I can salvage,

Trying my hardest to bear throwing away what I have to let go of.

You could throw me away anytime,

But, here I am, struggling to put you behind me.

Isn't that something?

You happened long enough ago that my anger has simmered,

My spirits have lifted, if only three feet in the deep hole I fell in,

And my desperation has dulled.

I feel as numb, cold, and unattached as when you left me.

Since the day you said you didn't love me

Nothing has happened between my legs.

I'm trying to heal.

I wrap myself in bandages,

Fill my body with potions,

Compulsively talk to myself in the mirror,

As if it helps.

Sometimes, the memory of you cuts through my heart.

It's an easy, clean cut: a pair of scissors through uncoated paper.

You know, when I said I liked pain, this isn't what I meant.

I'm still trying to climb this mountain.

I slip sometimes. I stumble. I fall from exhaustion, my lips pressed against the rock.

Thinking of it now, you were like a rock when you kissed me on those last few days:

Cold, unfeeling, treacherous.

But no matter how often you come back to me, I have to pass you by.

I have to move on.

I have to keep climbing.