Bad Bones

I have made my bones bad
Except I am not bad
There are little shoes on every wall
I find names
Like Lessons
Samuel
Hadra
I wonder how they lost their names
Like I lost my name
Inside
How I lost my being
And wear through my shoes

When there is a mirror
Do you choose to look in it
Or do you jump through

I can’t look
Not at my bad bones
It is hard to jump through a mirror
When it feels like a wall

Rough and grating on my hands
And face

I don’t light a candle
For fear that I might hurt her

I run my fingers through the sand
A shallow trough of wishes and prayers
Little fires of what’s inside

I consider the prayer board
The messages are written on orange squares

In black pen

I read them
Think about how a stranger can take the pin from your wish and make it so
Every hope
Turned into words
Words said out loud

But not loud enough for the person who wrote the wish and ran
Jumped
Didn’t look

My face is like the Cheshire Cat and jam
Disjointed
smilingcrying

Not sweet like candy tears

The mirror is empty
On this side and that

I am my own witness
I am scared by the bag
But I love it.

I have turned my bones bad
Except I am not bad inside.