The knives we swallow to scratch up our insides never leave us. We are programmed to love one way, breathe another, fit the void in other hands, fix the cracks in rib cages, sew together stomachs, send butterflies to museums, grow affixed to being alone.
We are programmed to sleep snugly. We write naked and read clothed, closed off, trying to get close to other lovers. We are afraid of being held and having stitches heal overnight. Fearing that we wake up with the chance of the knives in our bodies breaking free.
We are programmed to hide our shames and nakedness to new lovers. I am afraid to fall in love again, I am afraid of showing the skin underneath my rib cage, I am afraid to cut open another lover. Make a fresh wound. Afraid to show him that blood makes me weak. I am afraid of war and growing accustomed to being cut open and wounded.
We are programmed to hide our weaknesses. To grow strong and tall. To love by learning how to hide the knives we were programmed to swallow.
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