Learning To Use My Words

I fell through the ice at nine years old and I’ve lived with bruised toes since. I’ve learned to walk on my heels until the skin slides off with the meat on your brittle bones. I guess winter is comforting because I relive tragedies in my feet and not behind my eyes. I’ve known the world can never be snow white but I cannot explain the bright glare of clouds consuming my small glass plane. I should name myself a victim with an icy layer in my throat. It has been there for most of my life and I suppose it will never leave. Attempting to speak with warmth melts the white in my throat and comes out only as tears. I have tried to burn myself. I have tried to burn you too. We have sparked knives and metal and I have melted the first layer but I fear that’s all I can do. Will you stay long enough to see ocean levels rise? Will you stay long enough to watch my bruises die and resurrect with the seasons? I cannot promise much but I will hold your muscle in place so it does not fall with me.

— ODH