You’re not brave, you’re just hurting. My insides are knotted- I’m barely breathing. Trying to stay awake because I can guard the village in my mind if I try hard enough. It’s like my body shuts down when you’re near. My veins sink. Blood races to my heart and screams, “if you’re here for the taking then please walk away”. You ignore it. My rib cage means nothing around you. Watch you dismantle it like the treehouse your dad built for us as we reached for the last pieces of girlhood. You knew every knot in the pine and every nail hole in the tree and every creek in the floorboards. You memorize these motions and reach past my lungs- never caring if I’m still breathing or protected. Dig your nails into my heart- reminding me of a familiar pain. I know it all too well. You call all these things some type of magic and I call it false healing. How you try to spit venom so that I can taste it. But it’ll never make me feel as sick as you. It’s this strange tug and pull and I fall and stand back up every fucking time. You’re not a hero. You’re not a villain. You’re not brave, you’re just hurting. -AMT