The breakdown was more
brutal than it usually is.
All screams and punches and sobbing.
A car crash disguised as a human being.
Weeks of sliding in.
Forty-five minutes of destruction.
Then I dressed and put my make up on.
Walked to work blasting rap music.
Just like that, a switch flipped.
Anger and frustration turned cool and purposeful.
I wonder if that’s how it feels
to be born.
Violently thrust into a new world
you’re not sure you’re ready for.
You can’t go back.
Jump in.
and on long drives to nowhere
With conversations that always felt
we were leaving something important out
Bottles of bourbon hidden in trunks
and Altoids containers filled with prescription pills
rattling around in the bottom of my purse
We became experts at deflecting questions
At making excuses
Putting on faces and telling each other
“it’s not as bad as all that”
Always thought we’d ask for help
when it got bad enough
Until then
we’d just roll with it
Sitting on the steps at Jason’s apartment
we didn’t talk about anything
and pretended it was a choice to share a silence
instead of an inability to let each other in
And even when his mom found him
swinging from the rafters
of the house he grew up in
We told ourselves we were all perfectly capable
of carrying the weight alone
for Pat K.
She called my writing courageous
I tried to climb inside the word
Wear it like a second-hand jacket
which once held stories that were not mine
but now would only know the slope of my shoulders
and the place my elbows bend
Wanted desperately for it to fit
Turned it over in my hands
Traced all the stitches with my fingertips
sure I’d find it falling apart at the seams
But it was true enough
It fit well enough
No matter how well I know
it’s all about the things
still layered underneath
Feelings there are no words for
Not yet
Ruby Pipes 