Trauma

One day I just got sick of hearing myself tell that same fucking story again.
You know.
That one.
The one that changed me.
The one that blew my soul out like a candle.
The one I tuck under my pillow each night.
The one I scream to at street lanterns in the creepy midnight air
as I watch the silhouette of another person I love leaving me,
also tired of listening to me tell that same fucking story.
The story I let define me.
The one that lives my life for me.
The one that won't wash off no matter how many oceans I cross to run away from it.
The story that no man can kiss away completely.
One day came.
I opened my mouth to speak and out of it came nothing.
My tongue licked the inside of my cheek and no longer tasted blood.
That was the day I stopped arriving with a ready-made introduction.
There's no 500 pound label stuck to my head anymore.