Fractured
Baby, I heard that you’re in love
Oh what a wet mess
Commands disguised as questions
from a steady and certain mouth
Licking the soft of my lips
Salivating, ravenous, gasping for that kind of unwavering authority
I never knew about the safety of breathing
I wanna learn what your lungs do
How do they know to keep going when you speak?
I stare
reluctantly, fascinated by your closeness
I want to tear myself apart, sew the pieces together, and
rip myself apart again
and again
and once more in case the others
didn’t take
Baby, I heard you broke your brain
Oh what an ensuing din
You tell me I am
Here
And me
And right now
as i relive my undoing
as you witness my little deaths
Baby, I heard you are all in
Oh what a lofty thought
Rebecca Portela is a writer and speaker for human rights and animal protection in New York City. She specializes in the genres of psychology and comedy writing. She recently finished writing her memoir, Unearthed, where she uses her unique sense of humor to address difficult subject matters, including PTSD and sexual abuse. Her work can be found in Idle Ink magazine, Beyond Words (Queer Anthology), X-Ray, trampset, io Literary, Stone of Madness Press (inaugural issue), and elsewhere.